


Don't Point That Finger at Me Unless You Intend To Use It

by Blue_Thallium



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 82,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Thallium/pseuds/Blue_Thallium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the kink meme:</p><p>"so my idea, it's years after the game john can be anywhere from oh 17-23. for some odd reason he needs will be in texas for an undetermined amount of time and can't afford a hotel or renting his own place so dave suggests he stays at bro/daves apartment.<br/>no instant 'in lust' sex(fantasizing or UST is fine), must be built up as they actually learn about each other instead of what they know from dave. feel free to put in random 'odd couple' shenanigans as they get use to living together."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Deanons*

TG: so  
TG: in summary  
TG: you took this substituting job  
TG: without checking if you could afford a hotel  
TG: without checking if you could afford to rent an apartment  
TG: and without checking if you had anywhere to stay  
TG: you fucking moron  
EB: yeah I get it, it was a stupid thing to do!  
EB: but I really want this job, dude  
TG: i know its always been your dream to wipe childrens noses and teach them well and let them lead the way yadayadayada  
TG: and you know id be offering you our couch  
TG: well our bath tub seeing as our couch is bros futon  
TG: but you seem to have forgotten that as of next week im not in the  
fucking country  
TG: your best friend is only going to be in fucking italy for a year and you dont even remember  
TG: youre a terrible person  
EB: oh. oh yeah.  
EB: i’m screwed  
EB: oh well. bye bye teaching career leg up, hello another six months on Dad’s couch  
TG: fuck you egbert give me five minutes  
EB: ??  
TG: bro says you can sleep on our couch  
EB: but you won’t be there?  
TG: exactly hes gonna sleep in my room  
EB: i’m going to be living with… your brother  
EB: just me and him  
TG: take it or leave it man  
EB: it’s not like I can say no!  
EB: crap  
EB: fine  
TG: wow rude  
EB: it’s not that I’m not grateful, it’s just going to be super awkward without you there! and its gonna be for six months maybe more!  
EB: awkward town population 2  
TG: yeah i guess  
EB: especially considering i’m pretty sure your bro doesn’t like me at all:/  
TG: he likes you plenty  
TG: he likes all my friends  
TG: he doesnt act like he does obviously because lame  
TG: but whatever he doesnt mind hell probably be glad for the company  
TG: last couple of days hes been getting all twitchy  
TG: my baby is about to fly the nest oh no!!!!  
EB: aww that’s kind of sweet  
TG: not really hes not dealing with it well  
TG: he hid my suitcase four times  
TG: i had to put it in my sylladex  
TG: and the fucker takes up a lot of room  
EB: oh well. Tell him I said thank you for the offer and I accept!  
TG: kay  
TG: when can he expect you by  
EB: two weeks! Before the school year starts you know  
TG: of course  
EB: thanks buddy  
EB: i bet Texas is going to be shit without you and stuff  
EB: not just my time there, I mean like the whole state is just going to go to shit  
TG: man it totally is  
EB: i’ll pester you like every day you’re in italy  
EB: why are you going again?  
TG: your interest in my life is astounding  
TG: im going to remind you of the title of my degree  
EB: uh… art?  
TG: fine art (international)  
TG: this is the (international) part  
EB: oh  
EB: well that’s cool!  
TG: super cool  
TG: im gonna fuck off actually ive got some shit to do  
TG: im out of white spirit  
TG: i swear bro drinks it or some shit i run out so quickly  
EB: oh okay!  
EB: tell your bro i said thanks again!  
TG: i dont have to i just gave him your chumhandle  
EB: what

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

EB: you bastard

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

TT: Hello, John.  
TT: I am Dave’s brother. His Bro. His primary care giver.  
TT: The man who wiped his ungrateful rump for the first three years of his life.  
TT: His idol.  
TT: Father figure.  
TT: Sensei.  
EB: oh hi!  
TT: So it appears we are going to be “roomies” for the next…  
TT: Was it, six months?  
EB: maybe more!  
TT: Well.  
TT: You and I are going to be the best of friends then, aren’t we?  
EB: yeah I guess!  
TT: We don’t need Dave to have a good time.  
TT: He can go to Italy, and have his fun, and paint a whole bunch of Italian titties.  
TT: I don’t even care.  
TT: In fact, excuse me, I’m going to go and tell him just that.  
EB: hehehe…  
TT: Yes.  
TT: Score one to Bro.  
TT: So, when should I expect you?  
EB: uh, probably a week or so before the first day of school  
TT: Don’t feel the need to pin yourself down to a date.  
TT: It doesn’t really matter any way, I’m self-employed, so I’m home pretty much all day.  
TT: Alone.  
TT: But only for a week, because after Dave’s gone, you’ll be here.  
TT: In fact, excuse me, I’m going to go and tell him just that.  
EB: oh okay  
EB: are you experiencing some… oh what would Rose call it  
EB: separation anxiety?  
TT: Uh, no.  
TT: Whatever gave you that impression?  
EB: nothing…   
TT: In fact, excuse me, I’m going to tell him that I don’t have anything near separation anxiety.  
EB: i can’t tell if this is your whole “irony” thing, or if you’re genuinely upset about Dave leaving  
TT: Six of one, half a dozen of the other.  
TT: You reach new tiers on the irony scale when you intentionally include just a dash of sincerity.  
TT: Something which Dave never really understood.  
EB: you’re gonna go tell him that now, aren’t you  
TT: Yes, excuse me.

*

So you’re on a plane to Houston. To go and live with Bro. For six months. Maybe more, depending on whether the lady you’re replacing recovers or not.

You’re wondering if this dream job is even worth it.

No. It is. Of course it is, how many kids fresh out of their teaching qualification get to go teach at one of the best grade schools in the country.  
None. Apart from the ones with connections.

You’re only getting this job because one of your Dad’s old college buddies is the Principal. Apparently they’re getting kind of desperate for male teachers, so you’re lucky you were born with both dangling genitals and a nurturing instinct.

You think of Casey in your sylladex, and chew your lip. You’d honestly meant to ask if it was okay to bring her, but you’d just sort of… forgotten. You’re pretty sure it will be. Dave’s Bro seems like a liberal sort of guy (what with the puppet porn and all) so you’re sure he’ll welcome your little consort with welcome arms.  
Especially when you tell him she chose you over Rose. Score one to Daddy John.

So you’re kind of shitting bricks about the prospect of living with Bro for so long. You haven’t seen him since Dave’s eighteenth birthday, and you remember him being huge, and grumbly and generally a little odd. He’d presented Dave with a custom smuppet, and Dave had looked like he was about to kill Bro all over again.

You spoke about Bro in contemptuous terms to Dave, and barely spoke to the man himself. You always thought he just sounded creepy and lame, and honestly kind of stupid.  
Granted, you’d been wrong about that last one, and very taken aback by how articulate he was in your few online conversations.  
Maybe you’d meet, and he’d turn out not to be creepy or lame at all!

Yes.  
You’ll keep telling yourself that.

*

You arrive at Houston airport, sylladex checked and strife specibus back in place (you always feel insecure without your hammers. Man, you get why airport security takes it away from you, but still) and you’re barely out of the gate when you see Bro standing there with a sign reading “JOHN EGBERT” in bright blue glitter.  
You allow yourself to sneer, briefly, before walking over with a smile. You stick out your hand to shake, and he pulls you into a hug, and fucking yells “God it’s good to see you again, baby” then gives your ass a squeeze.

“Uh… Y- what?” you splutter. You’re about to ask what the fuck is going on, when he growls in you ear.

“Dave said you liked pranks, just roll with it, this is going to be hilarious.”

“Oh dear God.” You whisper. Bro releases you, and drops to one knee, and produces a small box from his pocket. “You – no.”  
Bro nods silently, then flips open the box.

“I’m sick of you going out to Washington. Even if you are a member of the secret service, I can’t stand you being away from me. Hickeys only last so long, Johnny, but a ring is a permanent thing.” You’re aware of about a hundred pairs of eyes on your back, and oh God, he’s taken off his shades and there are legitimate tears in his eyes. “John. Sweetheart. Will you marry me?”

“Oh my fucking God.” Is about all you can manage. All you can do is stand there, and gawp, and wonder _why, why did you accept this offer_.  
An old lady beside you chirps “If you don’t say yes, I will!” 

See, now you’ve got a bit of a dilemma. If you say no, he’s going to cause a scene. If you say yes, then he’s going to cause a scene.  
Scenes will undoubtedly be caused whatever you chose. You feel your prankster’s gambit shrivelling like testicles in cold water. You have been bested, truly bested, and you’re too embarrassed to think of anything funny to do in response.  
You sigh, deciding to choose the scene which involves a whole crowd of people _not_ thinking you’re a heartless bastard.

“… Yeah, sure whatever.” You grumble. And you barely have time to think before a huge crowd of strangers is applauding and he’s lifting you bridal style in the middle of the airport. You’re mangrit levels go down too. He’s just fucking showing off now.  
You’re kind of surprised when he doesn’t kiss you – maybe he does have some boundaries.

“Thanks everyone!” he calls back with a wave, and he sounds like he’s hosting kids TV. He doesn’t actually put you down till you get to his truck.

“That was funny.” He says, his smile falling to a tiny smirk.

“… Why.” Is all you say, and you buckle yourself in.

“You like pranks. I was being hospitable.” He shrugs and starts the engine. He has a pokemon key chain, and he stil wears those stupid fingerless gloves. He must be pushing forty now, if he’s not already, he’s too fucking old for fingerless gloves. And a popped collar and a cap and that much hair gel, he’s a douchebag, he’s a fucking douche bag you’re officially going to be spending the better part of the next year with a massive fucking douchebag.

“Most people just ask how was your flight or…” You drop your head in your hands. You’re in no mood. “Jesus.” You grumble.

“Well fuck me, I thought I was living with John Egbert, not Grumpy Gus.” He says, leaning over to elbow you. You look at him, his eyes are on the road at least, and his shades back in place.

“I’m… Look, I’m sure it would have been absolutely hilarious if I hadn’t been up since five this morning.” You sigh. “I’d have been game for it, I’d have freaking… dipped you or something.” You say.  
All the while your mind is chorusing “douche bag douche bag douche bag” and you grit your teeth. He takes his hands from the wheel, and folds his arms, exhaling noisily.

“It seems you think I’m being a douche bag.”

“No!” You say defensively. Maybe this is why Dave thinks he’s so great, the fucker can read minds. “No, I don’t. I appreciate the gesture, I just. I mean, thank you for, for trying but I’m tired and I-”

“Interesting.” He says, tenting his fingers. His hands still aren’t on the wheel, why aren’t his hands on the wheel?!

“What?”

“I just find it interesting. I just fucking publically humiliated you, yet you’re thanking me. Interesting.” He says. You’re pretty sure he’s still pranking you, that bastard. You just go silent. Fuck this. You are not doing this.  
“Oh. Oh the silent treatment, I see how it is. I, altruistically, offer to take you, a virtual stranger into my home, into my very warm, masculine bosom for an indefinite amount of time, and you can’t even take a little verbal sparring.” He finally puts his hands back on the wheel. “Well a fucking pox on you, sir.” He huffs.

“I’m never going to win with you, am I?” You say. 

“Get used to it.”

*

You step into the apartment and find you’re basically balls deep in trash and smuppets. 

Does this guy actually ever leave the house? Or does he just sit around sewing, live streaming weird puppet shit and letting empty takeout boxes accumulate.

“Welcome to Casa De Strider.” He strolls in ahead of you, and does some kind of totally unnecessary ninja flippy thing onto the couch.

“Cosy.” You say. There is a lot of… plush stuff lying about. Hell, you could make one of those big troll piles and be super comfy.

“I cleared a corner for your stuff.” He says. “No one likes to live out of their sylladex. That used to be my corner. See what a fucking exemplary host I am. Anyone could mistake me for the proprietor of an expensive country Bed and Breakfast.”

“They sure could.” You say. You remove your suitcase from you sylladex (achieving God Tier allows you access to the ‘Simple’ model – you can just take shit out and put it back in again, no more fucking around) and it lands in Bro’s corner with a bang. He starts wittering on about how easy it is to fold the couch out into the futon, when you remember Casey again.  
“Uh… Are you allowed pets in this building?” You ask.

“No, why?”

“Oh. It’s just…” You release Casey from your sylladex. She’s a little old now, but she still blows bubbles like there’s no tomorrow. She glubs, and scampers off into the bathroom. “That’s Casey… I adopted her during… You know.”

“The game I died in.” He suggests.

“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “Any way, she’s like a big yellow baby to me. Me and Rose raised her together.”

“Why didn’t you leave her with my competent ecto-daughter?”

“We gave her the choice and she picked me.” You say, a dash smug. “I didn’t want to just run off, I’m not Meryl Streep in Kramer Vs. Kramer.”

“Sweet.” He nods. You assume Casey has been accepted into the Strider bosom. Huzzah. “Well, I guess it’s time to lay down some ground rules.” He says. As he does, he takes off his cap and flings it so it hits the corner of the TV. “Just kidding, there are no rules.” 

“Yay.” You say weakly. You make your way over to your suitcase, and perch on it, since Bro has been nice enough to stretch out so you can’t sit on the couch.

“Yeah but, no seriously, here’s the rules.” He says. “Rule number one: You are not to clean without my permission. I have this dump exactly the way I like it. My refuse is arranged in a way I find particularly aesthetically pleasing, and I’d prefer it if you kept those pretty piano hands off of my shit.” You, horror struck, look around the room. It’s disgusting; even without the weird pixelated puppet shots on the wall, it would be disgusting. “Even if it looks like a total piece of trash, don’t throw it away, I might need it.” Says Bro. “Uncurl that lip, because it’s the most important rule. Rule number two: do not interfere with my equipment. The cameras are on, but they’re not recording or streaming. If I am recording or streaming, you will receive a four minute warning.” He’s deadly serious. You sigh. You’re going to have to find a paper bag to wear over your head or something. You don’t want any of those puppet perverts taking a liking to you.  
“Rule number three: if you come in late, don’t make too much noise. I’m not some young whippersnapper, I need my sleep.” He says. Well at least that rule is reasonable.” “Rule number four: if you bring home a conquest, while I am here, please knock on my door three times so I know not to come out of Dave’s room, then wait a moment to receive the customary ‘getting laid high five’. If I’m not home, leave a tie on the door knob.” Bro waggled his eyebrows slightly. You feel yourself blushing. God, as if you’d ever bring anyone back here, Jesus.

“Couldn’t I just text you?” You say, with a shrug.

“No. No. it has to be a fucking tie.” Bro says, almost snapping. You’re pretty sure he’s rolling his eyes behind his shades. “Don’t you watch shitty TV?”

“No, mostly shitty movies.” You laugh nervously.

“Cool.” He says. “The final rule, rule number five: don’t jerk off in the shower.” 

“What?”

“I’ve lived with a young boy man adult thing. Don’t tell me that’s not a thing you’d totally do.”

You give a sheepish “Uh…” because, let’s face it, that’s totally a thing you do.

“Yeah, exactly.” Bro tips his shades. “Have you ever had to fix a jizz clogged drain, because it’s fucking gross.” He leans toward you, and lowers his voice slightly, “The Strider shower is a temple. Respect it.” It’s like he’s worried the shower might over hear him. He snaps back to lying down on the couch.  
“And your rent is just half whatever the utility bill is each month.” He says, easily. “If you can’t pay with cash, I take it out of your ass.” Your jaw drops. “Kidding.” He raises his hands defensively, then adds “Or was I?” and you swallow, because you honest to God don’t know if he’s kidding or not.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro no that's inappropriate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro no

The first day of school comes quicker than you think.

You’ve spent much of the last week wandering around Houston, trying to get your bearings, or crushed into the corner of the living room, pestering Dave on your laptop (TG: so hows bro has he given you the no jerking off in the shower speech yet).  
Bro stays in his room a lot, occasionally emerging to retrieve food, water and smuppets. 

You’ve had a few evening meals together, which is… nice you guess. You’ve just been eating takeout, and your stomach, which is fully used to the finest home cooked meals, is rather upset after a week of eating crap.  
You decide to use the money your Dad gave you before you left to go out and buy groceries after work. You feel like a real adult – at least, you would if you weren’t using your Dad’s money. 

Bro offers to give you a ride to work in the morning, and you’re actually really surprised. As you’re walking to his truck together, you realise Bro’s really not as huge as you remember him being. He’s like, only a few inches than you. And you guess, what with your fabulous God Tier Hammer Arms (ladies love the Hammer Arms), you could maybe be sort of evenly matched in a fight. Maybe. He’s still way bigger built than you are, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had like thirty pounds on you.  
Okay, so he’s still huge, but at least you’re much bigger than you used to be. 

As you get into the truck, you check your phone and find you have nine extremely supportive texts from your Dad… You’ll respond later.

“This reminds me of Dave’s first day of school.” Bro says wistfully.

“… Really?” You ask, with narrowed eyes. 

“No. God no. You’re not crying or begging to be taken home.” He snorts. “You know Dave was original named Pinocchio? Little shit made me rename him before he started school.” 

“That’s not true.”

“Nah, but it sounds like something I’d do.”

You smile. “You wouldn’t rename him.”

The corner of his lip quirks up. “You know me so well. It’s only been a week.” There’s a beat of a pause, and his face is dead straight again. “Soon we’ll be lovers.”

You, despite your first instinct (to yell ‘good god no’ in Bro’s face, jump from the car and youth roll till you come to a halt) soon realise what a golden opportunity this is to stretch out an olive branch. An olive branch of laughter. You would prove, after the proposal incident, that you do in fact have a sense of humour when not cranky.   
“I’m just waiting for you to make your move. Your move right on to my weiner.”

“That can be arranged. As soon as you’re done today, I’m going to take you to a love motel and touch you right on the peepee.” Bro says. His face doesn’t move, but his weird, big, dark eyebrows wiggle (you guess that’s where Dave got that gene). You giggle.

“Geez Bro, just you talking about it is making my Ochinchin feel weird.” You say. You actually get a little puff of laughter out of him, before quickly burying your face in your hands. “I can’t believe I said that and I’m about to be responsible for a classroom full of six year olds.”

“The whole thing is a sting. You’re going to go inside and find Chris Hansen standing in an empty room.”

“If I’m going down I’m taking you with me. I’ve seen your Muppet Babies posters. They’re hanging in the living room, they’re pretty hard to miss.”

“Yeah, I’m totally turned on by Muppet Babies, I am so hard for Gonzo in a diaper.” He looks at you then, deadly serious. Even more serious than usual, because his blank face usually looks pretty serious. “Fuck Egbert, all this puppet talk on top of all that ochinchin business is making me horny as hell. Maybe we should pull this truck over. I’ll paste felt to your skin, put a bonnet on you, sit you in a perambulator and pretend I’m sexually abusing you.”

You suck air through your teeth, and wear a pained expression. “Too far.” You say, shaking your head.

*

“Good morning kids!” You say gleefully. You have twelve asses on the carpet, staring up at you with huge, round eyes. Some of them are a little slack jawed. There’s a chubby kid in the front with pink glasses and an eye patch (a flesh coloured band aid thing), she’s gazing up at you like you’re superman. You name her ‘Special Eye’  
“Now I know you were expecting to have Mrs Lafayette this year, but she’s gone on a long vacation and-”

A kid at the back with dark hair pipes “My older brother says she’s sick.” You name her “Lie Smasher”   
“No, she-” Lie Smasher cuts you off again. 

“My older brother says she’s dying.”

“What’s dying?” Asks a little boy, with a fabulous afro that’s nearly twice the size he is (Wonder Locks). 

“I don’t know but it sounded real bad.” Lie Smasher shrugs. Wonder Locks looks at you with narrowed, brown eyes.

“Hey, mister, what’s dying?”

You blink at him. “Wow. That’s… That’s kind of a heavy question.” You say uncomfortably. “How about if I just tell you my name?” You ask, with shrug. 

“Dying is what the class hamster did last year.” Announces a redhead, with braids (she’s Pippi Longstocking, that’s way too fucking easy.)

“Hey kids! Forget about dying for five minutes!” You implore. A watery eyed blonde in the middle chokes out an anxious whimper.

“I don’t think I can!” he says, beginning to chew his finger nails (Twitchy.)

“Dying is what Mommy talks about a bunch when she’s suffering from ennui.” Mumbles a pasty kid, dressed in all black (he’s Sylvio Plath).

“That is great. Any who, I’m Mr Egbert, and I’ll be your teacher for the next six months. Maybe more!” 

“You talk funny.” Says a kid in dungarees, with a comically thick Texan accent (Billy Bob)

“I’m from Washington!” You inform him. A girl with hair that pools around her on the floor (Rapunzel) whistles, impressed.

“Where the President lives?”

“The state of Washington, not the city. Sorry kids.” Rapunzel pouts. Another little girl (blonde, pigtails) raises her hand.  
“Go ahead, honey.” You say. “And how about we say our names before we speak, so I learn them easier.”

The girl nods. “I’m Candy, and how come you’re not old like Mrs Lafayette, or Mrs Nelson, or Mrs Murray, or Mrs Jinks, Or Mrs Dubois, Or Mr Harms or Mrs-”

You cut Candy off, with a chuckle. She’s still counting out old teachers with her pudgy fingers. “Hehe, that’s because this is my first job! I’m really not that much older than you kids!” You look down at their little faces, then, with an inward groan, correct yourself. “Well… Some of your older brothers and sisters.”

A mousy girl tugs your pants leg. “I’m, uh, Harriet and, uh how old are you Mr Ebgert?” she asks. 

“My name is Mr Egbert, sweetie. Egg Bert. Like the food and the Sesame Street character.” You tell her. She nods sagely. “I’m twenty three, by the way.”

A tubby boy sticks his hand in the air, and you nod at him. “I’m Terrence and my Mommy’s ex-boyfriend is twenty three. She’s says she’s a cougar, which I don’t get ‘cause she’s a lady not a cougar.” He’s eyes narrow, and you snort a laugh, which you quickly regret when Wonder Locks asks:

“I’m Brian. Mr Egbert, what’s a cougar?” his poor, innocent head tilted with confusion. You’re aware of the fact you’re gawping at him, wondering how exactly you could divert their attention away from this, when a kid in a Spiderman shirt leaps to a standing position and screams:

“My name is Stanley and I like colouring!”

After the “Introducing yourself” debacle, you get the kids in a circle and have them tell you their names, and something they like to do (inspired by Stanley).

Lie Smasher is actually named, “Mija” and she likes “soccer and bunnies”. Special Eye announces herself as “Um!” and she likes to “Uh!”. Harriet (who likes drawing birds) tells you her name is Magdalena and she likes jump rope, “Only she always trips of account of her bad eye!” 

Your heart bleeds for her, and she squeaks, “I have very poor depth perception!” then turns red, and hides behind Harriet.

Sylvio Plath introduces himself as “Holden P. Anderson-Martin” and he doesn’t like doing anything, because there isn’t any point to anything.  
“But playing with choochoo trains is fun.” He adds, hastily. He reminds you a little of Dave. 

After Terrence is done telling you about how he likes cooking with his Mom, Billy Bob tells you his name is Bobby Hill, and you don’t concentrate on what he likes to do, because you’re busy trying not to ask him if his Dad sells propane and propane accessories.  
Twitchy’s name is Richard but his older brother’s call him Dick (Oh God, you really hope that doesn’t catch on when he’s older.) And Rapunzel’s name is Pari, and she likes to wear her mom’s hats. Pippi’s name is Megan and before she can tell you what she like to do, Brian tells you he likes to read, then demands a story.  
Then all the other kids demand a story.

You pick one about a mean old Lion, who befriends a gazelle. The moral is something to do with learning to put aside differences to make new friends.

When school gets out, you stay behind so the parents can meet you. You’re approached first by Pari’s parents, who tell you about her incredibly high IQ, and cheerfully warn you that you should make sure she receive extra stimulation if she finishes an activity after all the other kids.  
Terrence’s Mom doesn’t really say much. She calls you a cutie, though; apparently she’s never seen such a handsome young man teaching such little kids before. You make a mental note to avoid her like the plague.  
Bobby, Harriet and Brian’s parents don’t feel much of a need to do anything other than learn your name, before scooping up their kids and leaving with smiles and “Good lucks!” Harriet’s Mom takes Magdalena home too, and they become your new favourite pair of little Best Bros.   
Holden’s parents are kind of odd. His dad is old, says little and introduces himself as “Professor Martin”, and his Mom (Introducing herself as Ms Anderson) is a writer - it turns out you’ve read one of her books (On Rose’s recommendation – you hated it.) 

Mija’s parents are nice, her Dad is a slightly over friendly Business man type, and her Mom smiles and nods her way through the conversation because apparently her English isn’t very good.  
Stanley’s Dad (looking very worn out) apologies on his son’s behalf before scuttling out of the room.

Before Richard and Candy’s parents arrive, Bro does, standing in the door way jingling his keys.

“I’m aware of the fact I’m probably not supposed to be here, but I decided standing alone in the Parking lot by a truck with tinted windows was a lot worse.”

“Who are you?” Candy asks, blinking with her big, green cow eyes. Bro answers without missing a beat.

“The tooth fairy. You?”

“I’m Candy.”

“Is your Mommy a stripper?” He asks. Candy and Richard, thankfully, just look confused. 

“Bro! Dude!” You growl. Bro shrugs easily, and reaches for his pocket.

“I’ll give you both a dollar for your silence.” He says, and Candy gleefully sticks her hand out and accepts the money. Richard is more hesitant. 

“My Dad says I’m not supposed to take stuff from strangers.”

“I’m not a stranger, I’m the tooth fairy.” Bro says, and after a moment’s deliberation, Richard accepts the money too.

You’re smiling a little to yourself. Candy attaches herself to Bro’s leg, while Richard stays next to your side. You give him a little puzzle to play with.  
After a few minutes of Candy riding around the room on Bro’s leg, while he pretends to shake her off, her Mom bounds in. She’s sporting ash blonde hair and pink extensions, and a gaudy designer tracksuit. She’s young, and has a killer smile and a really distractingly jiggly set of tits.

“Hey! You must be like, Mr Egbert. I’m Candy’s Mommy, Crystal.” She says. She sticks out her hand for you to shake, and she’s all warmth and smiles. You decide you like her very much already. Bro, who she has walked past without acknowledging, mouths “ _Stripper_ ” over her shoulder.  
“And who’s leg are you on Candy?”

“This is the tooth fairy.” Says Candy. Crystal laughs, and looks at you with the kind of expression that simply says “I don’t get it”

“Actually, this is my good friend Br- … Bro.” It strikes you that you don’t actually know his first name, and you find yourself blushing. Crystal misinterprets this.

“Okay cool.” She says with a nod. “That’s totally cool, I’m like, super open minded. I signed a thingy to legalise gay marriage.”

“Oh. Oh, no it’s not like that, we just live together.” You blurt, in protest. Bro snickers. “Like roommates.”

Crystal claps a hand over her mouth and Christ it is taking a lot of effort not to look at her boobs, it is taking so much willpower not to look at her boobs.

“Oh my God, oh wow, I’m sorry I just like, figured what with you being a teacher and all you were like his twink or something.” Her eyes go wide, and she’s blushing too. “Oh wow, that sentence should have stopped way before it did. I am so _stupid_.” She yanks Candy from Bro’s leg, gaining a whine of protest. “Say bye to Richie and Mr Egbert and… The tooth fairy, I guess!” She says, hurrying out of the room like she’d just done something awful.  
You’re looking at her ass, and Bro is looking at you looking at her ass. He shakes his head at you and says, “Dude.”

You ignore him, and talk to Richard instead.

“Your Dad’s a little late, huh buddy?” You say, crouching to his level.

“He works far away. He gets um, stuck in traffic sometimes.” He mumbles. He abandons the puzzle in favour of chewing on his fingers. “I. Um. He um. He gets real late.”

“Maybe we could try his Mom at work or something.” Bro asks, with a shrug. You’re surprised by his patience, but then, you sort of forget he’s raised a kid of his own. That’s always kind of hard to remember.

“My Mom works far away too, except she works even more far away.” Richard says, he plops down onto the floor, and gazes miserably at his shoes. 

“Where does she work?”

“Hong Kong.”

You blink. You were expecting him to say Dallas, or something. “Oh wow, that is pretty far… Uh. It’s okay, I’ll just wait here with you till he shows up.” You run your hand through your hair, and shoot Bro a glance. “And Bro can go wait in the car, because he’s a little scary.”

“He’s not scary, he’s the tooth fairy.” Says Richard with a small frown.

You stand again, and sigh at Bro. “You told a kid you’re a fairy and Candy’s hot Mom thinks we’re scr-” Bro cuts you off before you hiss ‘screwing’

“In yaois?” he suggests.

“In yaois with each other. What a great start.”

Bro’ nostrils twitch, in a manner that is somehow faintly contemptuous. “You’re just cranky because I didn’t touch your ochinchin this morning.”  
You’re about to respond, when you hear the faint clicking of heels in the hall, and a knock at the classroom door.  
The school Principal, your Dad’s friend, pokes her head round the door, smiling brightly. She is a tall, older woman, whose entire demeanour screamed “I am firm but fair”.

“Hello John, we-” She spots Richard, and stops her first sentence. “Oh no, is Daddy late again Richard?”

“Yes Mrs Sharp.” Says Richard, with a solemn nod . Mrs Sharp sighs, then shoots Bro a slightly dangerous look.

“Who do we have here, Mr Egbert?” She asks you.

“This is… My Uncle.” You think fast. Don’t want your boss thinking you’re yaoiing some guy with a popped collar, twenty years your senior. “I’m living with him right now, he just came to give me a ride home. He didn’t want to stand in the parking lot alone.”

“My truck has tinted windows, it wouldn’t send out a great message.” Bro adds. Mrs Sharp smiles, understanding, her brow furrowed slightly.

“Really you should have a visitor’s badge, Mr…”

“Strider.”

“Mr Strider, but, as you’re John’s family, I’ll let you off this once.” She winks. Bro tips his shades and returns her wink, exaggerated, and mocking. You would kick him if you could reach. “I just wanted to ask you how your first day went, and if you needed to make any records in the Booboo book?”

“The what?” You ask. Bro snorts.

“The record we keep of all the children’s accidents.”

“Oh, no, today was Booboo free.”

“Even Stanley?” Mrs Sharp asks, her eyebrows shooting up. You nod. “Excellent. What a good start!”

You guess it is a good start. No one got hurt, no one cried. Everyone had fun during story time, and after our initial mini fiasco, the kids stopped asking you about death, and sat very quietly. Over all, it had been a really good first day, you guess.

Mrs Sharp left, and Richard’s very guilty looking Dad arrived a moment later, looking thoroughly harassed, and promising his son ice creams abundant to make up for his lateness. 

As you and Bro walk in silence to his car, you suddenly remember you were going to get some groceries.

“Hey, um, Bro?” You say. He doesn’t really turn his head of acknowledge that you’re speaking at all, but you assume he’s listening. “Can we go to the super market on the way home?”

“What for?” He unlocks the car, and you sigh. Of course this wasn’t going to be easy, it never was.

“For food. Real food. Food that hasn’t been cooked by some underpaid seventeen year old.” You explain as the two of you get into your seats. Bro puts his keys in the ignition, shooting you a small frown.

“Why?” He says. “There’s nothing wrong with takeout. Fast, cheap, easy.”

“My stomach can’t take any more of it!” You protest, rubbing your gurgling belly. You swear it feels a little softer than it did last week. “Plus, I’ll get fat.”

Bro snorts. “Exercise, Egbert. Then you won’t just be not fat, you’ll achieve a sweet bod like mine.” He comments easily while he reverses from his space. 

“My bod is plenty sweet!” You tell him. And it is plenty sweet. Your stomach is flat, your arms are positively God-like and you have a damn nice tushy, if you do say so yourself. Maybe you haven’t got Bro’s whole… washboard ninja thing going, but you’re fine as you are. Better than fine. 

“Don’t make me lift my shirt Egbert, because I will, and I’ll do so while slathering myself in baby oil.” Says Bro. He lies a hand on his stomach and pats it. You may feel a teeny, tiny pang of envy when you can see his stomach muscles through his shirt.

“As boner inducing as the image of a greasy middle-aged man is, I still want to go to the store.”

Bro sticks out his bottom lip. “I’m only thirty nine.” He huffs. You laugh. 

“Pff, yeah, and how long have you been thirty nine?”

“About as long as I’ve been dreaming of making greasy, middle-aged love to you.”

“That was terrible, and so are you.” You sigh, “Just take me to the store. You don’t have to eat what I cook, I just can’t stand another night of freaking Chinese food. I want vegetables that aren’t fried in a pint of oil and soy.” Your intestines are crying at the thought of having to digest yet another portion of sweet and sour pork.  
Bro shakes his head then, and you’re surprised.

“No, I’ll eat what you cook.” A note of mischief is in his voice. “Provided you wear a pretty lady’s apron.”

“I don’t give a shit if you eat what I cook.” You say. Bro registers the flaw in his bribe, then edits it.

“Fine, I’ll just turn this car around, and we can go home, and you can walk the treacherous mile to the store, with nothing to protect you from the really fucking bright Texan sun.”   
You click your tongue. It’ll be dark by the time you get to the store any way.

“Cool. I’ll opt for the ride, because I don’t really care about wearing a pretty lady’s apron.”

“But you’ll look so silly.”

“So.” You shrug. “I’m not Dave, I don’t give a shit.” 

“Burn.” Bro snickers. You like to think that in Italy, Dave just shuddered violently and dropped his brush, or sat up in bed with a cry of terror.

Bro takes a turn, and you’re clearly headed toward the store. You smile.

“Where would you even get a pretty apron?” 

“I have a selection.”

“Why?” 

“Do you really need to ask?”

“… Ah. The porn.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baaah comments kudoses ever thing AAAH THANK YOU ghjshjs  
> Fanart Napalmarts did me beautiful fanart aaah ;_;  
> http://napalmarts.tumblr.com/post/17146531193/http-archiveofourown-org-works-332430-chapters-53

A few weeks pass, and you find yourself really settling in. Bro isn’t crazy about your cooking, and he still eats takeout most nights, but you do gain a new love for the apron he makes you wear.  
It’s just your colour, and it covers up everywhere you usually splash. You might look kind of stupid, but you are fancy and stain free, and that’s all that really matters.  
Bro seems to be a little upset that he can’t keep swords in the fridge any more, but you offer a reluctant compromise. You clean your plates in the sink, so he can still keep fireworks in the dishwasher. Successful friendships involve some compromise, in your experience, even if, in this case, it’s you making most of them.  
Bro, all in all, is still a total pig, and generally obtuse when you try to find out a little more about him. He refuses to tell you his first name, his real age or anything about his friends or his childhood; he won’t even tell you where he grew up. He’s the biggest pain in the ass to talk to, and you wish he’d just loosen up on the stoic, irony crap a little. You’re one more lame sex joke from snapping “You’re a grown man, stop it!” at him.  
You’d feel pretty bad if you did that though. The guy’s an asshole, but he’s pretty good company. When he feels like being good company, that is.

He only seems to leave the house on Wednesday nights, when he has a regular gig doing some kind of puppet rapping thing with Lil Cal’s less evil replacement (It’s basically the exact same puppet, even the same name, it’s just less… sinister) other than that, he’s just indoors all the time. He’s there when you leave, and there when you get home. Most night you get the bus, but every now and again he comes to pick you up (mostly when you want to go grocery shopping).

You guess you feel like you’re making friends, but you’re a little lonely. With Jade’s travelling, she barely has internet access any more, and Rose is in the middle of her second novel, so she spends more time working than screwing around with you online. You can at least still text her. Dave is only available a fraction as much as he was before. There’s usually at least one troll online, but they’re kind of hard to talk to, especially considering the fact that they can use their creepy viewport thing to catch up on your lives whenever they want. Pretty much anything you have to say to them is old news.  
So you guess you’re kind of… really lonely right now. You’re not making friends at work, because you’re the only person there who’s under forty, (and the only dude, besides Mr Harms, this sixty year old guy who teaches fourth grade) so they’re not exactly your type of people. The only person you’re connecting with at all (apart from Bro, you guess, and twelve six year olds) is Candy’s Mom.  
Truth be told, you think you’re getting kind of a crush on Crystal. She’s only four years older than you. She is, admittedly, kind of stupid, but she’s sweet and genuine and she makes a really nice difference from talking to Bro.  
But, of course, she’s married. There aren’t many single-parent twenty-somethings who can afford to send their daughters to private elementary schools. Her husband is some big football manager, whose name you don’t recognise because you don’t give a flying fuck about football.  
You see Bro watching a game one night, but, of course, he only watches for ironic purposes. He wears a Houston Texans shirt while he watches, and drinks bad beer.  
(“I didn’t know you liked football!” You’d said, with some surprise, and he’d replied with “I don’t. I have no I-fucking-dea what is going on here.”)

*

“Egbert, consider this your four minute warning!” Bro calls from his room. You’ve literally just stepped in the door.

“Excuse me?” You say.

“I’m streaming soon. There was a technical hiccup this afternoon, and I’ve spent the last four hours slapping this shit into submission with my righteous pimp hand.” Bro then wave his right hand in a manner that was faintly threatening.

“And I’ve spent the last seven hours teaching!” You protest. Your feet hurt your back hurts, and your ears are ringing. Damn those kids can get loud. “We learned our two times tables today.” You say. Despite the yelling, it was truly a beautiful moment when Stanley finally managed to get past four and go onto six without stopping off at five. You all went on a journey together today. A number journey.

“As completely mentally taxing as I’m sure that must have been for you, I really do need to stream.” Bro says, impatiently. “So I’m gonna have to kick you out of the living room. Unless you want to feature, that is. How down with that would you be?” He asks. You just narrow your eyes.

“Can you just not stream in the living room?”

“All the cameras are in here.” He says. Your disbelief must show on your face, because his eyebrows shoot over his shades. “What?” He says.

“C’mon. You’ve got to have some in the bedroom or the bathroom.”

“There aren’t any in the bedroom. That was Dave’s room. And why would I put cameras in the bathroom with a kid in the house?” You think you can hear… is he upset? Is that a note of upset in his voice, because you think he sounds upset. His brow creases. “What kind of sick fuck do you think I am?” He asks. You stammer.

“Uh…”

“Wow. Thanks Egbert.” He mumbles. Then he shuffles into the kitchen, and retrieves a small carton of juice from the fridge, drinking from it a little pensively. “So are you going to leave or what?”

You don’t answer his question, you’re too busy witnessing what you think you’re witnessing. “… Did I just hurt your feelings?” You ask. You think he just rolled his eyes, but you’re not sure.

“Pff, no. I don’t have feelings.” He says, replacing the carton of juice. He bustles into his room, and retrieves his laptop and a handful of smuppets. You dread to think what he’s about to do with them.

“Everyone has feelings.” You tell him

“I don’t. There’s no heart in my chest, just a big, vibrating pile of dildos and pederasty.”

“I… I didn’t mean it like that.” You splutter. You honestly didn’t. Well you sort of did. “Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t think I was going to hit a nerve.”

“Implying I was potentially streaming Dave’s prepubescent dong to a handful of paying perverts? Nah. No nerves there. No nerves at all.” He snorts. He’s not looking at you, just tapping away on his laptop.

“Okay, whatever, as long as you know I’m sorry, and that I was way out of line.” You say brightly, (ugh, that even sounded forced to you) “So do you want me to clear out, or something?”

“Do what you want.” Bro says, bored sounding.

“Uh. I’ll get out of your hair. Okey dokey.” You say, and then you’re back in the hall of the apartment.

Aww fuck. You’re going to have to buy him a pizza or something.

*

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

EB: dave, are you there?   
TG: kind of  
TG: im a little busy right now   
EB: how busy?   
TG: in the middle of something   
EB: in the middle of what? because if it’s really important i can talk to rose I guess   
TG: a blowjob   
EB: oh god EWW!   
TG: yeah sorry   
EB: jesus christ  
EB: are you kidding?   
TG: no  
TG: its like 1 am on a friday night here okay  
TG: im drunk and now im sexing and texting about it its a good night   
EB: how are you even concentrating hard enough to text? isn’t the girl pissed?   
TG: giving not receiving   
EB: oh   
TG: yup   
EB: uh  
EB: should i go?   
TG: yeah probably the girl with us just unbuttoned my pants and i dont wanna be rude  
TG: this is already kind of rude any way

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

TG: but i feel like texting during a blowjob is on a new level of rude you know  
TG: nvm its okay shes not blowing me any way  
TG: you left  
TG: fune then ill gpo poester karkatrediws or soemtign  
TG: ufrhekws  
TG: fregu

 

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]

EB: dave just answered pesterchum while giving a blow job   
TT: Oh.  
TT: I can’t decide if that makes him a very attentive friend, or a very poor lover.   
EB: both?   
TT: Perhaps.    
EB: he was with a girl too!   
TT: I’m glad he’s enjoying Europe.  
TT: That lucky fucking bastard.  
TT: I’ve barely left my study in months.  
TT: And I think that was to get milk.   
EB: i’ll get you a hooker for your next birthday   
TT: Thank you, sweet merciful John.  
TT: How’s Viceroy?   
EB: _casey_ is just fine.  
EB: mostly she just hangs out in bro’s tub  
EB: i don’t think she likes the heat much   
TT: She should have stayed with her mother.   
EB: maybe you should take her back, the weather is better for her in washington  
EB: how are your mom and dad?   
TT: Drunk/supportive and supportive/supportive, respectively.  
TT: How’s Daddy?   
EB: it’s creepy as fuck when you call him that  
EB: and that’s actually what i’m pestering you about  
EB: i think i hurt his feelings, and i don’t know what to do!   
TT: He has feelings?   
EB: duh   
TT: That was a joke.   
EB: oh   
TT: What did you do, exactly?   
EB: i accidentally implied that he was a big enough perv to have cameras installed in the bathroom and dave’s bedroom  
EB: and by accidentally i mean on purpose  
EB: and by implied i mean told   
TT: Well, to quote Dave:  
TT: “Dude.”   
EB: yeah, on reflection i’m not really surprised that upset him   
TT: How upset is he?  
TT: Is he crying?   
EB: uh, no.  
EB: he was just all “oh obviously there’s a pile of dildos and paedophilia where my heart should be” and then he just got a little silent   
TT: Damn.  
TT: I’ve always wanted to see him cry.  
TT: Last year when I stayed with Dave, we got drunk and made a weepy playlist,  
TT: I can’t remember why, before you ask.  
TT: And we started playing “They Shoot Horses Don’t They” while Bro was in the room.  
TT: I swear on my Mother’s life that I saw a single tear rolling down his cheek.   
EB: as great as that is, i need your advice, not your weird anecdotes.  
EB: what do i do??? because i cant freaking deal with this   
TT: Have you apologised?   
EB: duh   
TT: Well, I am quite thoroughly out of ideas.   
EB: youre such a big help   
TT: What do you usually do when you upset someone?   
EB: i apologise, then we hug it out   
TT: Oh yes, of course.   
EB: remember when i called you fat that one time, and you cried   
TT: I was on my period.   
EB: yeah whatever  
EB: point is, we hugged that out.   
TT: You wouldn’t let me go until I accepted your apology.   
EB: hugged it right out.   
TT: …   
EB: thanks for the advice rose!  
EB: i’m going to buy us a pizza for dinner, and hug all the upset right out of him   
TT: I really don’t think that’s the best idea.

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]

TT: Fucking hell.

*

You go back to the apartment later, this time armed with a large spicy chicken pizza (deep pan) and with a pair of arms primed for platonic loving.

When you re-enter the apartment, bursting through the door with your best smile, you find Bro picking up dismembered smuppet parts.  
You don’t want to know.

You quickly set the pizza down on the nearby kitchen counter, and march up to Bro.

“Bro,” You begin. “I am sorry for hurting your feelings,” He opens his mouth to speak, and you press a finger to his lips. He recoils, dropping an armful of smuppet bits. “Shoosh!” He frowns, apparently unused to such a brazen display of shooshing. “What I said was unfair, and completely out of line. Completely.” You open your arms. “I’ve gotten you pizza, and I’ve also gotten you this hug, as a seal on our brohood.”

“No.” Says Bro.

“We’re doing this.” You say, stepping toward him, “ _We’re making this happen._ ” He holds his arms up, primed to grab his sword from his strife specibus, but, foolishly, he has not realised that this only makes your hug easier.

You wrap your arms (strong arms) around his midsection, and squeeze. He tenses, you feel his stomach muscles quiver, and he lets out a disgruntled sigh.

“Jesus Christ.” He says.

“Bros fight. And Bros hug it out.” You whisper. Bro makes some uncomfortable grunt (wow, apparently he is super not used to hugging) and then tentatively returns the hug. Inwardly you rejoice.  
That is, until he runs his hands down your back, and takes a firm grip of you bottom.  
With both hands.  
“Uh…”

“ _Plush._ ” He says, contemplative.

“Okey dokey, I think we’ve hugged it out enough.” You detach your arms, and he only takes a firmer grip on your butt. Now your crotch is pressed to his crotch. Great.

“Hey. Woah. Not so fast, Egbert.” He says. “You’ve had your hug. Now let me press the flesh.”

“I’m very uncomfortable.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder. “It’s like kneading the dough of a soft, but firm bread.” Your face heats up.

“This is assault.” You squeak. You’re going to tell on him. You’re telling Dave. “C’mon Bro, joke’s over, lemme go.”

“You hurt my feelings, you insensitive fuck, and this is the only way you could possibly make it right.” He says. He whispers it _right_ in the shell of your ear, and your back seizes up, however, you do not miss the admission.

“Oh so now you’re admitting that I hurt your feelings!” You exclaim. In place of a shrug, he squeezes your butt.

“I’ll admit a lot of things for a handful of luxurious ass.” He says, sounding a little bored. There is a slight pause in your protesting, and you take the opportunity to give him a real, sincere apology. Because you are sorry, you honestly are.

“… I’m really sorry, you know.” You say, gently. Bro nods.

“It’s okay, bro. We cool.”

“Cool.” You smile, and he stops squeezing with one hand in order to give your bum a pat, that could almost be described as tender. “Do I get your name, now you’ve got two handfuls of my butt?” You ask, feeling a little mischievous.

He clears his throat. “Dirk.” He grumbles.

“Huh. I had you down as more of a… Bro… Derik. Broderick.”

“Yeah, you’d be surprised at how often people assume that.” He mumbles. “Okay Egbert. I’m going to disengage my fingers from your rear. Don’t run off and masturbate right away, because that pizza is getting cold and it’s bad for your eyesight.” He tells you.

“Gee, thanks.” You say, laughing slightly. True to his word, he lets go of your hindquarters, then tips his cap to you as he crosses the very short distance to the kitchen, stepping over a few piles of miscellaneous trash. “Um… Hey, Dirk?” You ask shyly. He turns to you with some surprise. “Is… Is my bottom really… all that?” You ask, shrugging.

What? You’re only human. Bro (Or Dirk) seems like quite the bottom expert, and you’ve never been too sure if your booty qualified as fly or not.

“It’s so fine, I’d swear it was a species of the genus prunus.” You look at him dumbly. “Peach joke.”

*

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB]

CG: SO  
CG: EGBERT  
CG: YOU HAVE BEEN LIVING WITH THE STRIDER CUSTODIAN OR “BRO” FOR ALMOST THREE OF YOUR HUMAN MONTHS.  
CG: SOMETHING I HAVE BEEN WATCHING WITH A DEGREE OF INTEREST   
EB: why   
CG: I SEVERED MY ARM ON THE JOB, AND IT WILL TAKE SEVERAL MONTHS TO GROW BACK.  
CG: THESE ARE THE HAZARDS OF MY PROFFESION.   
EB: wait I thought you and Kanaya wrote shitty romance novels together for a living?   
CG: YES.   
EB: should I ask how?   
CG: NO. YOUR TINY HUMAN MIND WILL BE UNABLE TO CONTEMPLATE IT.  
CG: BUT LET ME TELL YOU, KANAYA IS NO WHERE NEAR AS FUCKING GRACEFUL AS SHE SEEMS, ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES TO HANDLING THAT CHAINSAW.  
CG: ANY WHO, ENOUGH ABOUT ME  
CG: LET’S TALK ABOUT YOU  
CG: HOW’S LIFE WITH YOU AND “BRO” GOING.  
CG: OR “DIRK”, AS YOU’RE CALLING HIM.   
EB: um… it’s good! i guess!  
EB: job’s going well   
CG: YES FUCKING FANTASIC, BUT I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE SILLY HUMAN WRIGGLERS YOU ARE APPARENTLY PAID TO TAKE CARE OF ALL DAY.  
CG: EVEN IF SOME OF THEM ARE PRECIOUS.    
EB: who’s your favourite?   
CG: I LIKE CANDY, SHE’S A MORON, BUT IT IS VERY PITIABLE.  
CG: I ALSO LIKE TERRENCE.  
CG: PARI’S CUSTODIANS PUSH HER TOO HARD.  
CG: LIKE THE OTHER DAY, OH MY GOD, WHEN THEY STARTING FUCKING WHINING BECAUSE SHE WAS PLAYING WITH THE TRUCKS INSTEAD OF READING?  
CG: SHE’S LIKE THREE SWEEPS OLD, LET HER PLAY WITH THE FUCKING TRUCKS.   
EB: i know, right?  
EB: ugh, I was so pissed, but it’s not like I can say anything, they’re her parents and I’m just her substitute!   
CG: THOUGH I CAN UNDERSTAND WHY THEY WANT TO PUSH THEIR CHILD, WHAT WITH THEIR BACKGROUND.  
CG: YOU KNOW HER FEMALE CUSTODIAN DEFIED THE WISHES OF HER CUSTODIANS TO GO TO MEDICAL SCHOOL.  
CG: AND THEN FURTHER DEFIED THEM BY MARRYING OUTSIDE OF THEIR FAITH.  
CG: SHE’S AN INSPIRING WOMAN.   
EB: i did not know that!  
EB: have you been creeping on people’s time lines?   
CG: I HAVE A LOT OF TIME ON MY HAND.  
CG: STOP DRAGGING ME OFF TOPIC WITH TALK OF YOUR SILLY HUMAN CHARGES.  
CG: IMPORTANT BUSINESS.  
CG: YOU AND DAVE’S CUSTODIAN.   
EB: yes…   
CG: I THINK HE WANTS YOU FOR HIS FLUSHED QUADRANT.  
CG: THOUGHTS ABOUT THAT?  
CG: ANY FEELINGS?   
EB: what have I told you about using our love lives for your shitty novels?   
CG: THAT IT’S INVAISIVE AND WEIRD.  
CG: BUT OUR READERS LAP YOUR SHIT UP  
CG: WE MADE HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS ON A SERIES BASED ON THIS FOXY JUNGLE ADVENTURER JADE SPENT LIKE TWO YEARS DANCING AROUND.  
CG: “GREEN BLOODED WILDERNESS EXPLORER FINDS A RIVAL CUM KISMESIS” WAS A SMASH  
CG: AS WERE ITS FOLLOW UPS, “GREEN BLOODED WILDERNESS EXPLORER BEGINS TO FEEL FLUSHED FOR HER KISMESIS, AS HER KISMESIS ALSO EXPERIENCES SOE FLUSHED FEELINGS FOR HER”, AND “GREEN BLOODED WILDNERNESS EXPLORER’S KISMESIS BECOMES HER MATESPRIT”.   
EB: whatever.  
EB: dirk doesn’t want me for his “””flushed quadrant””””, we’re just buddies  
EB: not everyone has to be wanting to screw everyone all the time you know!   
CG: YOU POOR, BLIND FOOL.   
EB: you know, you’re very calm today   
CG: TRUTH BE TOLD, I’M ON A LOT OF PAIN MEDICATION.   
EB: ah.  
EB: hey, if you want to be tracking any quadrant filling or whatever, you should be watching me and crystal   
CG: AS IF I DON’T HAVE MY EYE ON THAT CAR CRASH WAITING TO HAPPEN.  
CG: SHE ALREADY HAS A LEGALLY DEFINED MATESPRIT YOU FUCKING STUPID  
CG: GUY  
CG: FUCK OFF, I SEE YOU LAUGHING, THE MEDICATION IS MAKING MY VOCUBUALRY SUFFER    
EB: hehehehe   
CG: YOU KNOW WHAT, I’M JUST GOING TO SIT BACK AND WATCH THIS SHIT UNFOLD.  
CG: YOU WILL COME TO REALISE THE BRO’S FEELINGS FOR YOU  
CG: AND YOUR HEART WILL GO DOKIDOKI  
CG: JUST LIKE IN ONE OF YOUR HUMAN ANIMES   
EB: oh christ, has Jade gotten you on the animes?   
CG: I FIND THEM VERY SOOTHING  
CG: I AM WATCHING SAILOR MOON AS WE SPEAK, BUT I’M NOT VERY FAR IN  
CG: IT SEEMS THAT RAYE LIKES DARIEN.  
CG: BUT THAT’S A PROBLEM BECAUSE SERENA OBVIOUSLY LIKES DARIEN!   
EB: aww man, you’re watching the dub?  
EB: as if it wasn’t a big enough piece of shit any way!   
CG: BITE YOUR TONGUE   
EB: no way! Sailor Moon sucks!

carcinoGeneticist [CG] blocked ectoBiologist [EB]


	4. Chapter 4

You wake up on a Saturday morning to find Dirk pottering around in the kitchen. He does that… old guy thing of going to bed at a sensible time, and waking up at a sensible time, and therefore waking _you_ up at a sensible time, with his banging and crashing and his microwaving of left over Chinese food, and you swear to _God_ you don’t even know how this guy poops because there’s like no actual food in his diet, just crap!  
Ugh!  
You roll off of the futon and hit the floor with a thud, then you carry on rolling till you hit the bathroom. At this point you resign yourself to standing.  
You shower, piss, and change into the clean boxers and pyjama bottom you captchalogued yourself last night. You’ll put on a shirt later. Even though it’s October, it’s still _really fucking hot_ as far as you’re concerned. You make a conscious decision not to shave the stubble on your chin you’re pretending is only there because you’re just totally too lazy to shave.  
What? It’s a handsome look on you!

You drag yourself back into the living room, torn between watching TV and just going back to sleep. You flop down onto the futon, and grab your glasses, groaning when you realise you’re going to have to spend like… a whole minute looking for the damn remote.

You hear a faint clicking from the kitchen. In fact, you hear what is very distinctly the click of one of those big digital cameras. Suddenly a little paranoid you might be the subject of these photos, you sit bolt upright and take a look at what it is, exactly, that Dirk is doing.

The kitchen cupboards have been covered with the makeshift, backdrop of what you recognise as Dave’s bed sheets, and a smuppet is propped up on the counter and bent into what would be an alluring position if it wasn’t a weird gross ass puppet.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask. He doesn’t even look at you.

“Photographing the new and improved Smuppet – the 2K20 model.” He says. You yawn.

“What’s so improved about it?”

“Well I finally managed to get the anal-”

You cut him off with something between a gagging noise and a honk. “Argh! Jesus, never mind!”

“You asked.” 

“And I don’t know why I did!” You rub your forehead. Seriously, why did you ask? The answer was never going to be pretty, was it? He wasn’t going to have installed an app that checks tomorrow’s weather.

“Nice nipples.” Bro comment idly, looking away from his camera. You get the vague sense that his eyes are on you. Not just looking at you, but _on_ you. You fold your arms over your chest and smile to yourself, just a little.

“Thanks, they’re the new and improved 2020 model.” You say. “This time, they’re... I dunno. Bigger I guess?” You blink up at him, and he scoffs. “Do nipples grow? … I guess they’d have to, huh.”

“You get paid to mould young minds.” He says, shaking his head. “Instead of playing with your nipples, come over here and make yourself useful.”

“… Uh.” Is all you can manage, curling your lip slightly. He clicks his tongue. 

“I just need you to hold the smuppet so I can get a better angle on the close ups.” He says. Dirk isn’t quite snapping, but you excuse his almost-temper, because his voice is still rough with sleep, and his movements are stiffer than they usually are, like his body is not yet awake.  
You notice the blonde hair blooming out from his unkempt sideburns and the way it trails past his sharp jawline, onto his neck a little. You notice it, then you pretend you don’t.

“Oh. Okay, sure.” You say, and you stand tentatively, and walk tentatively. You’re basically scuttling.  
He stuff the smuppet into your hands, which dully slap against you bare chest, and you just sort of… hold the thing, wrapping a hand around its waist. Stomach. Thingy.

“A little higher.” Dirk says. And you hold it higher, so high you’ve gone a bit Rafiki with it. Dirk grabs your wrist and lowers it for you. “Yep.” He says. You just sort of stand there, because how the fuck do you display a smuppet. And Dirk leans in close with his camera, and smiles, just a little. “Aww, that’s great.” He says. He’s mostly photographing its obscene buttocks, when he stops suddenly and asks: “Can you hold it by the nose? And support its butt with your other hand.” You comply with the request. “Great.” He nods, and his camera goes “snap snap snap” while he’s flashstepping around you.   
The nose is soft and fuzzy, but really pretty stiff underneath, and it reminds you of the feel of… of a dick. Which was probably Dirk’s intention.   
“Fuckin’ A.” He says, and his lips quirk up a little more. “Hold the nose higher.” He says. You’re kind of blindly obeying him now, and you raise the smuppet so the tip of its nose is level with your Adam’s apple. “Higher.” Your chin “High- stop!” And you do, and the tip of the indecent nose is level with your bottom lip.   
“ _Now lick it._ ” He purrs.

You drop the smuppet on the floor. You stomp over to the futon, and hide under your quilt (despite the heat), only answering Dirk with your middle finger.

Four hours later Dave pesters you:

TG: just saw the updates on bros site  
TG: nice pecks egbert  
TG: hahahahahhahahahahahhahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahah  
TG: hahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahaha  
TG: hahahahahahhahahahahhahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahhahah

Then you block him.

*  
The Monday following what you have deemed “The Smuppet Incident”, Crystal is late to pick up Candy again. She’s been late every day for the past week, and you can’t help but wonder (with a smug smirk as you swing your legs up onto your desk and chuckle to yourself) if she’s doing it on purpose.  
She bustles in, ten minutes late (just long enough so that all the other parents are either definitely gone, or Richie’s Dad and therefore not due to arrive for another twenty minutes) with blue extensions in her hair this time, wearing leggings and a big, button-up, guy-sized shirt.  
You talk until Richie’s Dad bursts in. You talk about her husband (who sounds like a massive fucking absentees asshat), and you talk about Candy’s trouble with spelling, and how Crystal was never much good at stuff like that either. You talk about your hobbies (she’s an ex-professional cheerleader and pageant queen, who’s now taken up a part time degree course in child psychology, which she reportedly “sucks” at).  
You’re honestly a second away from asking her if she’d like to get a drink, when her wedding ring catches in the sunlight and you recoil from it, actually sinking down into your desk chair.

You spend the entire bus ride pouting and listening to Joni Mitchell. It’s hard being a grown up and wanting to touch a married lady on the no-no parts, it’s hard, but you bet Joni would understand.

You trudge into the apartment (which, you swear to God, one day you are going to just clean, regardless of the tantrum Dirk throws after) and plop onto the couch next to Dirk. You dump your bag on the ground, and sigh.

“Have you been nominated for an Olivier award for that performance yet?” Dirk asks. You fold your arms and huff. “Gee John, is something wrong?”

“Thank you for asking Dirk, as a matter of fact there is!” You say. You scooch closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder. “This is the part where you ask me what’s bothering me, and give me a tender head-pap.”

“I’ll ask you what’s wrong but the head-pap’ll cost you.” 

“Fine.” You say petulantly. You wait for him to ask, and you’re aware of the fact you can smell him (shitty pubescent-boy-brand deodorant, warm skin, and the general warm, stuffy, Stridery smell of the apartent).

“So what’s wrong.” He grunts.

“I like a girl.”

“You’re not gay?”

“Haha.” You drawl, thoroughly unamused.

“No. John, no, I thought we were in yaois.” Dirk says, sounding heart broken. You smile a little.

“Now is not the time for animes.” You tell him. “I like a girl. I like Candy’s Mom. Crystal.”

“The Strippery looking one?” He asks. “The married one with a six year old?”

“She’s a diamond in the rough!” You snap. “Her husband’s a douche and he’s never there. She’s lonely and sweet and gorgeous.”

“And you want to hit that.”

“I would hit that into next Tuesday.”

“So what, you want to fuck her or ask her out?”

“Both, I guess.” You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Both are stupid ideas.” Dirk says. Honestly, you’re kind of taken aback. You’re really taken aback. You were expecting him to encourage you and hand you a vibrating smuppet. Instead he sighs.  
“I don’t want to go into after school special mode here, Sonny-John, but if you fuck around with this woman, both of you are going to end up hurt, and you could potentially get in a lot of trouble.”

“Yeah, I know.” You grumble. His shoulder tenses under your cheek, and you wonder what you could have possibly done to deserve a serious answer from Dirk Strider. “Dave would tell me to go for it.”

“Yeah, well Dave answers his phone while giving blow jobs to strange Italian men.” He snorts. You look up at him, horrified on Dave’s behalf. “Oh yeah, I know all about that. Jade talked to Rose and I talked to Jade.”

“You talk to Jade?”

“Jade’s a fucking bro, of course I talk to Jade.” He says. “But yeah, I had a little fucking word with Dave about that.” His mouth quirks up just a little, then. “And by a little fucking word, I mean I fedexed him a box of a thousand condoms.”

*  
Despite your better judgement and Dirk’s advice, you find yourself scribbling a note to Crystal. It reads: Do you like me? Yes, No, Maybe.  
And then there’s a follow up: Dinner Friday, at that new Mexican place? Yes, No

You picked Friday because you know that’s the day Candy stays at her Grandma’s. It’s very cute, you think, very middle school. You hope she thinks so.

You fake-surreptitiously had her the note when she comes (late) to pick up her daughter, and she, with a coy smile replies “maybe…”  
So you hand her the other note, and she says “Yes.” And then you talk briefly about times, and she leaves, grinning and blushing, and excited like she hasn’t had any fun like this in years.

Friday rolls around quickly, and you’re back in the apartment from school, jumping in the shower and, again, making the decision not to shave.  
You put on your undies (your good undies, just in case), your nice aftershave, your deodorant, and you’re just stepping into your dress pants when Dirk bursts into the bathroom, not even bothering to knock.

“Where are you going?” he asks, highly suspicious. He sniffs the air. “Is that $40 aftershave I can smell?”

“I have a hot date.” You say primly, shuffling past him as you towel dry your hair. 

“With who?” He asks, clearly following you.

“A girl.” You tell him, snorting. You toss the towel onto the heater in your corner of the living room (even though the heater is never on) and route around for a good shirt.

“You don’t know any girls; you’re here almost as much as I am.” Dirk protests. You shrug on something baby blue and tight fitting, while resigning yourself to the fact that he has gotten you there.

“Internet girl?” You say noncommittally.

“I checked your internet history before I came to ask you, because I knew you’d lie.” He ay, he’s frowning ever so slightly and you’re scowling, and wondering how he ever guessed your password (how could he have possibly known it’d be NationalTreasure?)  
“You don’t use any dating sites, and you’ve checked your Facebook like… once, in the last three weeks.” He says, and it sounds like he’s fighting not to sound like a disapproving parent. “Apart from that it’s all pesterchum with your friends, and dumb online games. And www.spankedcheerleaders.com, which, unless you’re dating a filthy cheerleader, who’s been a bad girl and needs to be punished, all evidence leads me to believe you’re going out with Crystal.” He’s actually tapping his foot, and you cease buttoning your shirt to glare at him.

“Dude.”

“Yeah, my bad, but whatever.” He shrugs and then he’s frowning back at you, really glaring, and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Are you fucking insane or just plain stupid? You can’t fucking date a married Mom, they could probably fire you for that.” 

“I don’t think they could fire me just for having dinner with her.” You sneer, and he’s advancing on you his lips pursing. He takes off his shades and clips them into the pocket of his jeans so he can pinch the bridge of his nose, and for the first time you get a glimpse of the warm amber of his irises (because ridiculous candy bright eye colours are reserved for Sburb players only)

“You’re a substitute man; you’re as expendable as a Taiwanese child labourer.” He snaps. You snap back.

“We probably won’t go further than this dinner!” 

“You shouldn’t be going as far as this fucking dinner at all!” He yells, and Jesus Christ he’s actually yelling. His eyes are frighteningly expressive uncovered and the weirdness of the situation is threatening to knock you off your feet.  
He’s about a foot away from you, finger jabbing your chest, when suddenly his frown relaxes, and he just looks tired and… kind of sad. He tries to run a hand through his hair, and knocks his cap onto the floor.  
“You shouldn’t go.” He says. You’re still pissed. In fact, you’re weirded out and you’re pissed, and you don’t know what kind of weird fucking mind game Bro is trying to play here, but you’re not going to stand for it. 

“Uh, no offense Dirk, but, you don’t tell me what to do.” You growl. “I’m an adult; I don’t need you to hang over my shoulder just so you can fuck with me under the guise of concern. I’m not letting you screw with me, I’m not your little brother, I’m just your tenant.” And that apparently stings him a lot more than it should, if the look on his naked face is anything to go by. You almost feel guilty, almost, but then you remember he’s probably just messing with you. “I- I don’t know if you’re just being an ass for the sake of being an ass, or if this is some sort of ironic, over protective, fake big brother act, thing, you’re trying out, but-” His leather-clad hands are either side of your face, and you shut up because wow you weren’t expecting that. He wets his lips and before you heart even has time to skip a beat, his mouth is crushed against yours. There’s passion there you would have never expected to be, and the tender scrape of his rough thumbs against your cheek bones makes your stomach flip-flop. You’re surprised to find yourself melting into his touch, allowing his tongue into your mouth, and the blood pounding through your body trickling southward when you do. His teeth press into your lip, just roughly enough to let you know he wants you, and he wants you badly, and those frighteningly gentle thumbs tell you this is more than just lust. You break away for air; and all you can manage is a dumb, wobbly:  
“Um?”

His forehead is pressed to yours. “Don’t go.” He mumbles, his lips bumping yours when you does. Before he kisses you again, you jerk back.   
“Um.” You say again. You don’t look at his face you keep your eyes on your shoes. “I wasn’t expecting. Okay.” You run a hand through your hair and shuffle toward the door, stepping into your shoes. “I’m… Going to go.” You tell him.  
Again, you don’t look at him, and your heart is beating so fast you feel sick. You close the door gently behind you, and press a hand over your mouth, preventing any sigh that might escape on Dirk’s behalf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONGRATULATIONS YOU ARE NOW OFFICIALLY CAUGHT UP WITH THE KINK MEME AND NOW SUJECT TO FAR MORE SPORADIC UPDATES!!
> 
> But yes, thank you very much so far for all the love in general, it's been KIND OF SURPRISING to be honest so uwuwu i'm so grateful and guujs
> 
> speaking of things I am keyboard-smashingly grateful for, MORE FANART by shiny and talentful Napalmarts: http://napalmarts.tumblr.com/post/17254402062/oh-whoops-drew-more-art-for-dont-point-that
> 
> (she does commissions btw guys just in case you're interested)


	5. Chapter 5

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

TT: That was an accident.  
TT: My face fell onto your face.  
TT: What a clumsy motherfucker I am.  
TT: It’s not like I like you or anything, b-baka.  
TT: Obviously that was a joke.  
TT: I’m an adult, and we handle our feelings maturely.  
TT: John,  
TT: i liek u do u liek me if so plz cum bak 2 apatmnt if u do ill touch ur pensi  
TT: xoooxox  
TT: Just going to remind you, you could also get totally fired for going on this date.  
TT: Or at least beaten up by her large husband.  
TT: Who I googled.   
TT: Huge.  
TT: You know what, I’m being unfair.   
TT: John, you have your date. You sleep with that married woman. You begin a painful affair. I hope you enjoy it.  
TT: That sounded bitter.  
TT: I mean, it’s clearly going to potentially fuck up your career and ~your heart~ but obviously I’m a little biased here, what with my own Bromosexual intentions.  
TT: But they’re the kind of Bromosexual intentions where I would like to see you happy, even if it’s not with me.  
TT: That’s kind of a lie though, because I want you on my dick, and vice versa, yo.  
TT: I’m even prepared to be a naughty cheerleader, to satisfy your sick fetishes. You filthy bastard.  
TT: I think I’m going to stop fucking talking now.

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB]

CG: WOW.  
CG: WOW.  
CG: CAN WE JUST  
CG: I AM AS RIGHT ABOUT THIS AS I WAS ABOUT SERENA’S TRUE IDENTITY BEING PRINCESS SERENITY.  
CG: HOLY FUCK BALLS I AM A GENIUS.  
CG: HE WANTS ON YOUR BULGE.  
CG: I KNEW IT, I FUCKING KNEW IT.  
CG: AND INSTEAD OF STAYING HOME TO MAKEOUT WITH THE HANDSOME PORNOGRAPHER, YOU’RE OUT WITH FUCKING MARRIED MCGEE.  
CG: NOT A WISE MOVE, FOOLISH HUMAN. NOT A WISE MOVE AT ALL.  
CG: SILLY, SILLY BOY.  
CG: GOD.  
CG: THEY UPPED MY DOSAGE BY THE WAY  
CG: BECAUSE THE BONES ARE STARTING TO COME THROUGH AND IT’S LIKE  
CG: IT HURTS SO  
CG: I AM SO HIGH RIGHT NOW   
CG: I WISH YOU WOULD STOP WALKING SO QUICKLY BECAUSE IT’S MAKING ME FEEL ILL  
CG: OH  
CG: OH   
CG: IS THAT THE RESTAURANT  
CG: WHY IS IT SO BRIGHT  
CG: THE NEON  
CG: THE LITTLE NEON SOMBREROS BLARING OUT THE SCREEN AT ME LIKE ONE OF YOUR HUMAN MERRIACHI BANDS  
CG: HOLY SHIT LOOK AT IT GO  
CG: I’VE BROKEN ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE  
CG: I AM ONE WITH THE COLOURS  
CG: I AM THE LIZARD QUEEN  
CG: GFEHIDJSA  
CG: U4RHWEFR8Y48FFBJDBROIRHF  
CG: NOIREHWFEDNOOOOOOO  
CG: Hello John Im Taking Karkats Husktop Away From Him  
CG: Sorry About The Disturbance  
CG Have Fun On Your Date  
CG: Actually Hang On  
CG: Im Sure You Must Be Sick Of This By Now But I Would Have To Say That I Dont Believe This To Be The Wisest Of Ideas  
CG: I Mean Red Romantic Advice Is Not My Forte I Am Very Much A Blackrom Girl  
CG: But   
CG: What Are You Doing  
CG: What What What Are You Doing What Are You Doing  
CG: Not That Im One To Meddle  
CG: Were Going To Go And Carry On Watching But This Is Likely To End Very Badly  
CG: But As Ive Over Heard You Humans Saying  
CG: Thats Just My Too Sense  
CG: Oh Look There She Is  
CG: I Hope You Both Come To Your Senses  
CG: Tell Her To Get A Divorce If Shes Unhappy Adultery Is Not The Solution  
CG: Yes Ill Stop Now  
CG: Farewell

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling ectoBiologist [EB]

“John?” Crystal kicks you lightly under the table, and your head snaps up from your phone.

“Sorry, I had a bunch of texts.” You smile, and slip your phone into your pocket with a shaking hand. “So.”   
Dirk likes you. He has feelings. He has actual feelings and they are for you. 

“So…” Crystal smiles, and blinks her pretty amber eyes (Oh why did they have to be the same fucking colour as his, you just can’t catch a break today, can you). “You look great. Like. Wow.” She says.

“Oh gosh, thanks, so do you. Like, wow, included.” You say. She blushes. She does look amazing. You hadn’t really noticed till now. The childish hair extensions are gone, and the tight fitting blue dress, coupled with the expensive jewellery make her look very elegant.

“Um… Do… Um. Are you drinking?” She asks.

“Okay. Uh. I’ll probably get a glass of wine, if that’s okay.” You tell her, and like that, she’s ordered a bottle and is pouring your glass for you. You take the glass when it’s half full, and glug it down quickly.  
God is it hot in here, it seems kind of hot in here, boy you sure are thirsty.  
You pour yourself another glass.

“Wow you… Drunk that kind of fast.” She said slowly, smiling. You laugh, nervous. 

“I’m a little on edge, sorry. My roommate was giving me a lot of crap about coming out with you, what with you being married and all.” You splutter. “He was all ‘you could get fired and this is only going to end in heart break for both of you!’ And I was all-”

“You could get fired?”

“No!” You yelp, sticking your hands up defensively. You lower them, then, feeling a sheeping grin creeping onto your face. “Well… Yeah, maybe.”

Crystal claps a hand to her mouth, lowering her voice considerably. “Oh. Oh my God, I like didn’t realise you could get fired!” She says. “I’m so sorry. I. I shouldn’t have said yes to you that was totally stupid. I’m so stupid!”

“You’re not _that_ stupid.” You say, you charming, foot-in-mouthing bastard, you.

“Thank you, you’re so sweet.” She replies, somehow _not_ offended. “I don’t want you to lose your job.”

“Oh, come on, can’t we just enjoy dinner.”

“I… Okay. I guess.” Then it’s Crystal who’s knocking back her glass of wine, that is, until she spits it back into the glass, coughs and rips open her menu, ducking behind it. “Holy shit. Okay, get down.”

“What why?” You slide down in your seat.

“Like three of the guys on my husband’s team just totally freaking came in!” She hisses. She peeks up from behind the menu, just to make sure, then dives own again. “Shit!”

“Fuck!” You answer. “What are we gonna do?... Are they big?”

“Obviously they’re football players. Um. Okay. Um. Oh my God, this is so embarrassing, but like… I told my Mom I was staying at a girlfriend’s so I like… I got us a hotel room.” She winces, you grin. _Aww yeah_. “Like, well, I got _me_ a hotel room, but like. Yeah.” She stammers.

You shrug. “So we could just… Go to the hotel room.”

“Yeah I mean. Yeah.”

“Great. Cool.” You say nodding. “Let’s shimmy out sideways.”

The both of you finish your wine very quickly, then sneak out, hiding behind your menus – which probably made you more conspicuous, but the three huge football players didn’t see you with their manager’s wife, so it’s all good.  
You thrust ten dollars at the Maître-D for the wine¬ and abscond, flagging down a cab as Crystal informs you that it was actually a twenty dollar bottle.

The hotel is only a minute up the road, and Crystal takes your hand in the back of the cab, and giggles. You giggle back.

She checks in while you look inconspicuous in the lobby. In the five minutes you are alone, you successfully manage to replay the entire kiss with dirk, and feel your cheeks heat up as you do. You also begin gnawing your lip without having noticed.  
Luckily, a bedroom-eyed Crystal thinks this is on her account, blissfully ignorant. As she leads you up to the elevator by the sleeve, you try to think Heterosexual thoughts. Granted she is making that a whole lot easier.

Shoving the key into your hand, she slaps you on the butt as you unlock the door. What is it about people and your butt?  
Dirk likes your butt, but you’re not thinking about Dirk and/or his feelings toward you/your butt.

Coyly, she pecks you on the lips, and closes the door behind her. 

“Okay. So we’re here.” You say. She giggles. You’re buzzy from the wine you think, because you stumble as you kick of your shoes, and fall onto the bed.

“We sure are.” She says. She kicks off her heels, and makes herself a good four inches shorter. “Do you want something from the mini bar?” She asks, gesturing toward a little fridge under a big TV.  
Actually, now you’re looking around, it is a damn nice room. Big warm cream walls and a _soft_ motherfucking bed.

“Uh…” You squeak. “Expensive…”

“Oh, no it’s on the house.” She says, you go to argue, but she cuts you off. “Like, literally on the house, one of my girl friends owns this chain.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” She says.

Boy does it pay to have friends in high places, you think as you stretch out on the bed. She offers you a selection of drinks, and you go for the premixed vodka and cranberry, which she also decides to indulge in.  
She joins you on the bed, and you sip your drinks and talk. You tell her about when Dirk proposed to you at the airport, and she laughs so hard some of her drink comes out of her nose.  
She cleans up, and tells you a couple of cute stories about Candy, while you space out a little, finding your thoughts drifting, unsurprisingly toward Dirk, and his weirdly impressive kissing skills, and, with a guilty pang, you find yourself getting more than a little excited... You know.   
In the underpants department. 

Suddenly your drink is gone, and Crystal’s hand is on your thigh.

“John?”

“Sorry, what were you saying I spaced out a little.”

“I was just saying, this has been nicer than if we’d stayed at the restaurant, don’t you think?” She says, with a smile. A sexy kind of smile, and Sweet baby Jesus, her hand is moving up your leg very much in the direction of your underpants department.

“Yeah! Totally!” You peep.

Her hand pauses. “You seem kind of distracted.” She says 

“I do?” You try to sound shocked. You fail. “Uh. I just. Me and my roommate. The fight we had before I left, was only sort of about this and it was pretty intense and… Well, he seemed really upset.”

Crystal wets her lip, and smiles devilishly. “I could help you take your mind of it?”

“Oh. Yeah. I mean. If you want to.” You say, nodding vigorously. This is exactly what you need to take your mind off of Dirk. Good ol’ Heterosexual sex. 

“I like got us a hotel room John, I kind of totally want to.” She purrs, her breast pressing into your arm. 

“Heh, well uh. You lead the way there, uh Missy.” You say. That was meant to sound sexy but you just sound twelve. But that’s okay, because soft, girl’s lips are on yours, then your neck. You taste her waxy lipstick as she hikes up her dress (she’s wearing hold up stockings. God you love hold up stockings. God now you’re thinking about Dirk in hold up stockings, _what the fuck is wrong with you?_  
She begins unbuttoning your shirt, and you slip a finger into the elastic of one hold up, when you hear a bang at the door.  
Then another bang. Then the sound of the door smashing open and hitting the wall with a crash. 

“Hey kids!” Says an all too familiar and deeply loathed voice.

“Jesus Christ, _Dirk!_ ”

You’re going to kick him in the balls. One of these days. One of these days you’re going to kick him in the balls so hard he’ll die and horrible, ball aching death.

He shrugs and strolls into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. “Yeah I know, dick move, but I couldn’t keep myself away.” He sighs. Crystal, from your lap, narrows her eyes.

“I’m not having a threeway, if that’s what this is.” She says.

“I didn’t invite him! I didn’t even know this was going to be a thing!” You protest. You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on with very sudden and full force.   
“Dude, what the fuck?!”

“I pestered you.” He says with another shrug. You grit your teeth. Crystal is still staring at him, mouth slack, flushing bright red.

“Yeah, I saw.”

“Well. I guess you know why I can’t allow this.” He says simply. Like that makes any sense. He couldn’t just suffer in silence for one fucking night, could he?

A little lost for words, you manage a whine of, “ _What is wrong with you?_ ”

“Yeah, what is wrong with you?” Crystal asks. She climbs off of you, and rolls onto the other side of the bed, tugging her dress down.

Bro snorts, and cracks his knuckles. “Oh man, that is one long ass motherfucking list; we’ll be here all fucking week.” He claps his hands, then draws his sword from his strife specibus. “Let’s get down to business, Crystal. You. Me. Strife.” He strikes some kind of ninja pose thingy, and points his sword over you, to Crystal. She rolls off the bed.

“Excuse me?” She asks.

“Oh my fucking _God_.” You’re like one second from smothering yourself with your pillow.

“We strife for John,” Dirk says, he quirks his index finger, beckoning her. “Come on, sister, let’s do this properly.” 

Crystal scowls, and looks at you accusingly. “You didn’t tell me you had some kind like, Scott Pilgrim bull going on, John!”

“I never dated him, he just likes me! And I didn’t know till a couple of hours ago!”

“Aww.” Her brow crinkles with pity. “Sweetie, no offence, but this is a real fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Dirk clears his throat, clearly impatient.

“Come on blondie, are we strifing, or are we motherfucking strifing?” He hisses. Crystal marches over to him, and draws… two of those twirly cheerleading baton things. She spins them dangerously, and they clatter against Dirk’s sword.   
“Batonkind. Interesting.” He comments, snidely.

“That sword looks as cheap as your Mom.” She replies.

“Ooh, Kitty got claws.”

“Bring it on, slut.” With another unpleasant bang of batons against cheap-as-your-mom anime sword, you’re off of your feet, drawing one of your more sensible hammers (now is not the time for Zillyhoo) and wedging it between the both of their weapons. 

“Stop it!” You snap. “Jesus Christ, can we not settle this without fighting?”

“No.” Dirk pouts. “Unless you choose one of us, that is.”

“Yeah John, just choose one of us.”

You blink. “Oh. Oh no. Nu uh. Fuck you, no.” Huffily, you sit back down on the bed.

“Pretty sure the choice is obvious.” Crystal sniffs. “I mean. He’s like. Fifty.”

Dirk’s jaw drops with outrage. “I’m thirty nine!”

“Pff, yeah and how long have you been thirty nine?”

Dirk points a dangerous finger at her nose. “Since you had your rhino plastied.” He says. She gasps, dramatically. “Oh yeah, honey, I can spot a fucking nose job from a mile out.” Dirk says. You’re burying your face in your hands, completely dumbstruck. Who knew Dirk turned into Perez Hilton during a catfight, who knew?

“I got hit in the face with a baseball bat when I was nine, it was necessary!” Crystal yells.

“Sure it was.” Dirk sneers. “Any who, it doesn’t matter how old I am, because you’re married any way!”

“My husband is screwing like four Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders, clearly our marriage means like fucking nothing to him!”

“Get a divorce!”

“It’s not that freaking easy, we have a child! … And I was stupid enough to sign a pre-nup.” She finishes, weakly. Dirk lowers his sword a little then.

“Oh. Damn.” He comments. 

“Yeah, you’re like freaking right, _damn_!” Crystal throws her batons on the floor in disgust. “God, he’s such a bastard!” She says, miserably. “I just wanted to. Be happy for once, and freaking show him, I could like. I can screw around too!” She flops down on the bed next to you.

“That doesn’t mean you can go around vengeance-fucking innocent substitute teachers!” Snaps Dirk. She sits up, an outraged look on her face.

“I am _not_ trying to vengeance-fuck John!” 

“Really, because it kind of sounds like you’re trying to vengeance-fuck John.” 

You put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “It does sound a little like you’re trying to vengeance-fuck me.” You tell her, gently. 

She’s silent for a while then. “I’m a total freaking bitch.” She says. You’re… a little offended. But it’s not like your crush on her really ran that deep. Crap. And Dirk was worried about you getting your heart broken. You were kind of just trying to get your dick wet with a nice girl, and by the sounds of it, so was she.  
But with a nice boy.   
And without the dick.

Her own dick, obviously your dick would have to be involved. 

Wait, what?

“You’re not a bitch.” You tell her, ignoring your thoughts.

“I’m totally a bitch.” She mumbles.

You have an idea, and smile a little. “Hey… do the terms of your pre-nup say anything about like… Adultery wavering the terms, maybe?”

She blinks. “… I don’t know.” She says. “Shit.” Then she’s bolting across the room to pick up her purse. “Oh my God, let me call my lawyer.” She says, extracting her phone. She high tails it into the bathroom, then slams the door shut behind her.  
You’re not getting laid tonight, are you.

You turn to Dirk, lips pursed. “Wellp. I hope you’re happy.”

“I’m stupendously happy.” He says, smugly. You lean up and punch him, hard, in the arm. He gives a weak “Ow,” then joins you on the bed. His arm snakes around your shoulders and you try to shrug him off. 

“Just because she’s not going to… revenge-fuck me now doesn’t mean I’m falling right into your arms, Dirk.” You snarl. “You fucking dick-prince.”

“Yes it does.”

“No it doesn’t!”

“Yes it does.” He says, voice disturbingly sing-song in tone. He boops your nose. “You kissed back.”

You slap at his hand. “I was frazzled.”

“ _With tongue._ ”

“I haven’t gotten any in months.”

“And I’m pretty sure you moaned.” He chuckles. You’re about to reply, when you hear Crystal yelling shrilly from the bathroom.

“ _I don’t care if it’s ten PM, check your freaking files, Joan! They’re digital, Joan! It’s not like you’ve got to drive your ass down to the office, Joan!_ ”

You laugh at that. You’re laughing at Crystal, it’s not a flirty laugh. 

“I did not moan.” You half giggle. The corners of Dirk’s mouth twitch up.

“That means you didn’t even notice you fucking moaned, which is worse.”

“I’d punch you right in the dick if I wasn’t sure that would be some sort of fetish for you.” You snort. Then you remember you’re angry! Angry with sexual frustration! “I could be getting laid right now.” You pout.

“Cheer your ass up. You would have only ended up calling out my name any way. I took a bullet for you man.” He elbows you, and you do not respond. Then his lips are dangerously close to your ear. “Plus, you can wait an hour to get laid.”

You elbow him back. Right in the stomach. “No.”

“We’re doing it, John.” He moves to wrap his arms around you, and you leap up, flinging yourself halfway across the room.

“No!” You say again. He comes at you, arms open. “No, fuck you, get away from me!”

“ _We’re making this happen!_ ” He runs at you, and you run away, almost bumping into Crystal as she emerges from the bathroom.

“Uh… Hey guys.” She says. Then she points at Dirk. “Um… What was your name again?”

“Dirk Strider, Dick Rider; known in some territories as El Puppeto Erótico.”

“Whatever. Um, do you think me and John could have a moment alone?” She asks. Dirk appears to be mulling it over, when you snap,

“Dirk, fuck off.”

He starts backing out toward the door. “Gee whiz, no need to be such a meanie, golly.” He says, before opening the door and closing it shut behind him. Thankfully, he puts his sword away before he leaves.  
Crystal smiles stiffly, and takes both your hands.

“Okay. So, turns out I can get a divorce that waves the terms of the pre-nup as long as I get concrete evidence of him cheating on me. Um…” She swallows. “Look, I don’t know if you have any… Real feelings for me, but. Uh,” And clears her throat awkwardly, “I’m sorry for trying to sleep with you to get back at my husband.” She says.

“I don’t mind. You can sleep with me to get back at your husband right now if you want!”   
She laughs.   
You weren’t kidding.   
Life is hard.

“Honey, I totally would, because you’re like, really hot and a total sweetheart, but like... This whole thing was kind of a boner kill.”

“Tell me about it.” You grumble.

“… I’m real sorry, John.” She says, letting go of your hands. You shrug.

“Nah, it’s okay.” 

“Still friends?” She asks.

“Of course.” And she holds her arms out for a hug. This is good too, you guess. You like friends. It’s always nice to have more than three of them.

“If it’s any constellation,” She says, into your shoulder. You wince but you don’t correct her. “I think your friend is really into you. And he’s hot, even if he is kind of old.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You concede.

“And if you sleep with him, we can like… Dish about it on Monday and stuff.”

“I’m not going to sleep with him.”

“Sure you aren’t, honey.” She says, then let’s you go. “I think I’m gonna go pick up my daughter.”

“Okay.” You mumble. You watch her slip her feet back in her heels and smooth out her dress and her hair. She retrieves her batons and makes her way to the door.

“Goodbye, John.” She says.

“Bye Crystal.” You wave. And she leaves, nodding to Dirk as she does, ignoring his request for a rematch.

He strolls into the room, thumbs hooked into his belt loops and looks around.

“So, what do you say we skedaddle before someone makes us pay for something or some shit. Actually, hang on.” He opens the minibar and causally captchalogues every single expensive beverage in there, quietly mumbling rhymes to himself to try and fit them.

You don’t tell him that the room and the minibar are both on the house. That would only spoil his fun. 

The two of you make a slightly embarrassing walk down through the hotel, the lobby and the car park till you find Dirk’s truck. Safely belted in, neither of you utters a word till Dirk is half way home. And it’s nice. You’re comfortably silent with each other. Until Dirk opens his mouth.

“Hey, John?”

“Hmm?”

“When we get home, what do you say we crack open some of this expensive alcohol, and have a round of hide the sausage?”

“No.”

“But I’ve got some baby batter in urgent need of delivery.”

“No!”


	6. Chapter 6

Somewhat surprisingly, Dirk just lets you go home to bed on Friday, not pressing the issue of his urgent baby batter delivery any further on that particular evening, something which you very much appreciate him doing.  
Honestly, him kissing you has screwed up your feelings a little more than you’d like to admit. When you jerk off before you go to bed, you try to keep your mind on tan, girl’s thighs and pretty hold ups, but your mind keeps wandering off to the feel of Dirk’s lips on yours, Dirk’s tongue in your mouth, Dirk’s hands on your face.  
It’s genuinely embarrassing how quickly you come. But then you’d gotten all worked up earlier and gotten nothing out of it, so maybe you have an excuse.  
Maybe.

*  
You wake up at… well, it’s really bright when you wake up, so it’s probably still morning, you guess? You sigh, and grope around the edge of the futon for your glasses. Instead, you clutch at what feels like a solid lump of denim.  
You gasp, and snatch your hand away, your eyes flying open, and fully open when they do. Dirk (slightly fuzzy) is sat with what looks like a tray full of… last night’s microwaved Chinese food.

“What?” You mumble.

“Breakfast in bed.” He says. “Because I have the homo for you.”

“… Huh?”

“Well, your lady friend is out of the picture – now it’s just you and Bro. So…” Dirk places the tray by your head and smirks. You give up looking for your glasses and just flop back down onto your pillow.

“That’s not really how it works.” You groan, your eyes on the ceiling. “It’s too early for this.”

“Oh come the fuck on, Egbert, you obviously like me.” Says Dirk, he sits up on his knees and leans into your eye line. You close your eyes just to spite him. “You give off these signals, these… Oh, Dirk you’re such a hot man, signals.”

“How have I given off any signals?” You ask, through gritted teeth. 

“Uh, you kissed back?” He says. 

“You caught me off my guard.” You protest, feeling yourself blush. You feel a weight either side of you, and suddenly Dirk is settling himself on your stomach. And he’s a heavy motherfucker. 

“Your heterosexuality guard.” He mumbled. Setting his hands either side of your head, he leans down over you. “You need to leave these archaic views of sexuality behind you, and learn to love the cock. My cock, specifically.” He purrs. You kick your legs weakly. His lips are dangerously close to yours, and you can feel how warm he is. You can smell him, and you know he’s freshly showered and that he’s been stealing your fucking shampoo again.

“It’s not a guard, okay, I genuinely prefer women.” You snap. “And I’m not even rejecting you on the grounds that I’m straight! You just fucking decided that for yourself the same way you decided that I like you back!”

Dirk, maddeningly, ignores you.

“How do you know you prefer women?” He asks, sitting back, arms folded expectantly.

“Well.” You shrug. Your face must be tomato red by now, and you can feel your pulse racing. “I went to college.”

A demonic smirk stretches Dirk’s lips. “How many boys in the football team did you jerk off, Egbert?”

“None!” He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, one, but that was... It was college.” ¬

Do you look like the kind of person who goes for guys on the football team? … That was practically an accident any way. Sort of. Not really.

“Describe him to me.” Dirk says, making a show of scratching his chin thoughtfully. You squirm under him, and try to kick him again. You fail.

“Well, he was a football player, so, you know, pretty tall and big and-” You cut yourself off. “Wait a fucking minute, no. Nu uh. I see what you’re doing here, and I will not provide you with any more masturbatorial fuel.” 

“Baby, you couldn’t stop fuelling my masturbatorials even if you tried.”

“Jesus Christ.” You groan. You half-heartedly try to shove him, but he just bends back out of arm’s reach. Gosh, he sure is flexible. “Come on Dirk, piss off.”

“I’m not getting off of you until I get your letter to Penthouse forum.”

“Uuugh, fine.” You sigh, and pinch the bridge of your nose. Though you have had an idea – you are the pranking master, after all.  
“There was this one time, at this stupid party, where we were playing like a mix between spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven. In fact, it was one of the weekends Dave was visiting. Anyway, we were a pretty mixed sex group, you know, so everyone was playing hoping they’d land on one of the girls, or that the girls would land on each other. There was this… This Guy there, not the football guy. He was artsy, he had nice hands – and he was tall, and really handsome. It was my turn, and I was just really hoping it would land on this guy, because… Well, he was really cute. So I span the bottle, and… Guess who it lands on?”

“The guy?”

“No, Dave. Who was fucking shit faced, so much so that when we got in the closet, he started dry humping me, then he came in his shorts and threw up on my shoes.”

Dirk’s face quickly contorts into an expression of complete horror. “Dude.” He says. “ _Dude_.” He massages his temples and looks almost heart broken.

“You walked right fucking into that one.” You cackle. Dirk gets off of you (you breathe a sigh of relief) and stomps off into the kitchen.

“God! Just! Way to kill a boner!” 

You don’t respond, you just laugh. You laugh when he throws the sexy Mr T doll at you, and you carry on laughing when he whines about this being the thanks he gets for making you breakfast in bed. Score one to you.

Even several hours later, when you’re fed, showered and dressed, you’ve failed to calm down. You decide to treat Dirk to a dramatic reconstruction using smuppets.  
When DaveSmuppet is just about to reach his climax, Dirk huffily knocks them from your hands, and you respond with a noisy hoot of laughter.  
Of course, you’re so busy enjoying his discomfort that you don’t see it coming at all when he kisses you. And, obviously just because he caught you off guard, you kiss back. 

He breaks away after a moment with a smug smirk, and draws a sword before sauntering out of the apartment, and you’re left sat there, your mouth hanging open and tasting of Dirk.

Fuck. So maybe he gets a point for that. Dirk: 1 – John: 1.

Revenge will be yours.

*  
The following day, Dirk is not expecting a bucket of water to drop straight on his head when he comes back in from sword practice. But then, you’re not expecting him to walk around in a wet, clingy white t-shirt for the next few hours, so you call that round a draw (2-2).

On Monday, you’re up and out the house before him for work, so you have the whole day to plot what to do to him.

You can’t come up with anything. Seriously, every time you try to think of something clever, you just end up… getting yourself all riled up.

Since Dirk kissed you, your brain has just become this big gay traitor. Every time you think of a prank, you’re brain just makes it dirty as fuck.  
Like, you imagine something simple – squirting him with a gag flower. Then before you know it, the water’s turning into jizz, and the gag flower is turning into a weiner. That’s not funny. That would be a terrible prank. You don’t really think there’s any universe where a facial is considered a decent prank.  
You imagine tricking him to take gum from a booby-trapped gum pack, and that’s all well and good, until suddenly Dirk-in-your-head is asking you if you’ll kiss his finger better, and you-in-your-head is complying.

You’re snapped out of your train of thought when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You’re really not supposed to answer you phone in class, but the kids are pretty engrossed in their colouring, and hardly seem to be taking notice of you.

TT: Hey John.  
TT: Hey.  
TT: I like you.  
TT: I wanna do baaaaaaaad things to you.  
TT: But in a good way.  
TT: I just winked. 

You sigh, and look surreptitiously around the room. Twelve heads down, twelve pairs of eyes concentrating thoroughly on their respective drawings.

EB: you know i’m not really supposed to answer my phone in class.  
TT: Oh, you bad boy.  
TT: Naughty boy.  
TT: *Spanks*.  
EB: quit it.  
TT: Oh no, have I caught you during a tsun-tsun moment.  
TT: You know, I’m totally laying my heart on the line here, bro, you could at least nice to lil’ ol’ Dirky.

You feel a pang of guilt. Oh gosh, you guess he’s right, huh? 

Maybe engaging in a dumb prank war with him isn’t the best thing to do. Maybe pretending that you don’t obviously have some none-platonic feelings for him is stupid too.  
… Should you just tell him you’re feeling a little confused?

… Jesus Christ this is pretty grown up of you.

EB: yeah, i guess you’re right.  
TT: … I am?  
EB: for once, yeah.  
EB: bluh.  
EB: look, i’m a little bit confused about my feelings for you, i guess  
EB: so maybe we should talk when i get home or something?  
TT: Talk.  
TT: About feelings?  
TT: God.  
TT: Fine.  
TT: Gay!!!!

*  
You spend the rest of the day pretty spaced out, so much so that even the kids notice. Holden asks you if you’re sad, and you assure him you’re not, and that you’re just a bit distracted. Under all of the black sweaters and “My mommy and Daddy said something really depressing” he’s a nice little kid.

Crystal seems to be avoiding you, and gets Candy to come outside instead of collecting her from the classroom like usual.  
You’ve only got a little filing to do, so you get home pretty early.

When you walk through the door, you find Dirk sat on the kitchen counter, frowning slightly, and picking a scab on his elbow.

“Hey.” You say. He nods. “Uh… Sup?” 

“Very little.” He hops down off the counter and turns his back on you for a moment. You dump your bag by the door, and loosen your tie.

“I see.” You say, then you drop down on the futon, a little annoyed you didn’t pop it back up into the couch this morning, because you sure as hell can’t be bothered to now. You unbutton your snazzy waistcoat while you do. Dirk is standing over you all of a sudden, thrusting a mug into your hands. 

“I made us coffee.” He says. And you stare at him, seeing yourself bewildered, reflected in his shades.

“You can… make things? Things that aren’t smutty puppets?” You ask. You didn’t even know he had mugs. Yours is pink, and declares you ‘World’s greatest Mommy’ while Dirk’s reads ‘Foxy Grandpa’.

“Obviously. I managed not to kill Dave, didn’t I?” He says. He sits down on the floor, opposite you. It feels kind of like you’re in class again. 

“I assumed you fed him on a diet of take out and apple juice.” You say. Dirk shrugs, slightly sheepish.

“… Yeah, pretty much.” He grunts. “I gave him a variety of raw vegetables to eat, too.”

You snigger. “Which explains why he ate an onion as if it were an apple the last time he came to my house.”

“Yeah, he’ll do that.” His lips quirk up a little.

There’s a silence. Kind of an awkward one – there’s a big pink elephant in the room with a grey mutant penis, and neither of you is bringing it up.  
You take a loud sip of your coffee, and resist the urge to spit it right back out again.

“Bro, this coffee tastes like butt.” You tell him. Dirk takes a sip of his coffee and twists his face as he does.

“That’s because I made it with my butt.” 

“What a talented ass you must have.” You chuckle. “Not all that talented though, because this is terrible.”

Dirk goes quiet for a moment then blurts: “Did you see, did you see the line you set up for me there, and I just. I just let that go.” He says. You’re almost proud. Never before has he let the opportunity for an anal sex joke pass on by.

“Congratulations.” You say, smiling. He looks like he wants to smile back, but doesn’t. “You’re like… a big boy.” You tell him. “A really… Huge. Boy.”

He purses his lips (You do like it when he does that – the expression is all Dave, and it makes you smile) “Goddamn it.” He huffs. Suddenly his face relaxes, and he’s all business.  
“So… You’re Confused about me.” He says.

“Uh.” You find yourself stammering, and slopping coffee on your pants (thank God they’re black) “I…Yeah. Confused, because I hadn’t put any thought into... You. As a… relationship, boner option. Thing.”  
Good God, you’re articulate.

“Fair enough.” Dirk says with a shrug. “I’ve kind of been nursing a boner for you for a while, though.” He mumbles. And not like his usual ‘I don’t give enough of a shit to speak above a mumble’ mumble. It’s a nervous mumble. Shy.

“How long is a while?” You ask. Then he’s shy-mumbling again.

“… Probably since Dave’s 18th birthday.” He says. You raise your eyebrows. “You’re really my type, though, so, that was just an aesthetic boner… Now it’s a heart boner.” He shy-bashful-mumbly-wumblies. Okay you just melted a little, even though it was crude and kind of a gross mental image. You feel this big stupid smile spread over your face, and this wibbley, gooey feeling in your chest  
“That was stupid. I like you, a lot.” He clears his throat, and takes another sip of his coffee. “I don’t really do. Feelings.”

“Really? Gee, you’re such an open book, that’s such a shock.”

“Fuck you, I’m so raw and openly emotional right now, I’m practically a Radiohead song.” You smile, and take a mouthful of your coffee, before spitting it back into your mug. Did he seriously make this with his ass, you wonder.  
“So. Just. Back on the subject, let’s just say you gave me some thought.” He says. He’s pretty determined to get a proper response out of you, actually. Part of you kind of likes that, you guess. 

“Well. It’s not that hard, I mean, to think about it. We get on pretty well. And. You’re hot and stuff.” You say. You swear to God you tried not to sound all coy, but you think you failed pretty miserably on that count.

“You’re damn right I’m hot and stuff.” He says, and then he smirks, and another silence descends. Dirk twitches where he sits, like he’s not sure if he should get up, or stay put.  
“So are we like… A thing?” He asks, suddenly.

“Uh.” You shrug. “I… Dunno.” Because you honestly don’t? Usually you do the asking. And Usually it’s a lot less… Well, Usually you’re not getting hit on by the weird old guy you live with. “Maybe you could give me a little time to get used to the idea.” You suggest.

Disappointment flickers over Dirk’s face. 

“… I guess.” He says. Though you think he sounds relieved. You think. He walks away, and you find yourself regretting not kissing him, or something.

The prospect of being with him excites you. You don’t know what it is, exactly, but despite the awkwardness and the complexity of the situation, and the fact he’s so far the opposite of your usual “type”, you want him. You’re sure you do.

But it’s how to approach him now. ‘Hey Dirk, I know I just said I needed time, but I bet if we bone, that would be totally cool’.  
You sigh, and shuffle over to the kitchen, deciding that you’ll eat your feelings.

 

You’ve started cooking when Dirk is suddenly pressing into you from behind. He’s strong, and warm, and he smells really, really good, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to regret this when you turn the gas off on the hob, and sigh.

“Do you think you’re getting used to the idea a little, yet?”

You relax into him and he wraps his arms around you. You can feel his breath on your neck, which means his lips are dangerously close.

“Is this actually working?” He asks. 

“Consider my spirit broken, you fat nasty trash.” You say. You swear you feel him smile (really smile) against your neck. “I don’t know about… a relationship, or anything.” You mumble. “But. I mean. Sexy stuff is cool.”

“I knew you wouldn’t last long.” He says, triumphantly. You wriggle with protest. “Not when I’m so cute and you’re so horny.”

“Let me go.” You say, with a chuckle, and his arms relax. You stand in front of him, watch him wet his lips, and take off your glasses, setting them on the counter (thankfully, your eyesight isn’t too bad). You remove the shades of a now ever-so-slightly-fuzzy Dirk, and set them by your glasses. You step forward, and your head is just under the rim of his hat.  
“Hey, Dirk.” You say, your voice is low (and wow, a lot sexier than usual, if you do say so yourself – go you) and he sighs.

“What?” he grumbles.

“Caps are fucking stupid and you’re too old for them.” You whisper seductively. Dirk laughs, and removes his cap, tossing it across the room where it lands on the floor.

“You sure know how to dirty talk, Egbert.” He says, and before you know it, you’re kissing, and it’s kind of totally wonderful. He’s just so damn good at it. Just wet enough, sucking and nibbling with all the right pressure, and the kind of finesse that suggests he’s done this an awful lot.  
You gasp when he crushes you against the fridge, and fist his waxy, slightly cap-squished hair.

“How many Dragon Ball Z action figures did it take to make this weave?” You ask. 

He flicks his tongue against your lip, and breathily says, “Buddy Holly called, he wants his glasses back,” then pushes his crotch against yours. Neither of you are hard yet, but you’re well on your way, and when he rolls his hips against yours, your lips part into a silent moan. Dirk’s tongue finds its way into your mouth, and flickers against yours. He withdraws to bite on your lip, and adds, “You dress like your father.” 

“Eww let’s not bring up my Dad right now.” You protest. He sniggers.

“Why not, he’s foxy.” Dirk says, pecking you on the lips.

“For the same reason we’re not going to talk about how hot Rose has gotten since she put on a little weight. I mean, gosh, those thighs.” You say – Dirk gives a disgruntled sigh.

“Point taken. So you’re a leg man?” He asks, and his fingers skirt up the tops of your thighs and up your sides, you shiver.

“Maybe.”

“I’ve been told I have beautiful legs.” Dirk says, and (quite bravely, if you do ay so yourself) your fingers find the obnoxious buckle of his belt.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You say, and dextrously, you snap the buckle open, and you guess Dirk likes that because you’re kissing again, and his lips seem to grow gradually more frantic each time they meet yours, he presses into you again and… yeah, you’re pretty sure that’s a boner he has there. His hands travel down from your sides to your ass, which he gives an indulgent squeeze.

“I’m more of a butt man, myself.”

“Really? Geez, you kept that quiet.”

“Couldn’t tell?”

“Your sexuality is a riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a puppet.” During this brief exchange, you’re pulling his belt out from the loops of his jeans (which seem to be especially tight today) which then ends up on the counter with your respective eyewear.  
You hook your fingers into his belt loops, and pull him into you again. He shudders.

“What do you say we take this over to the futon?” He asks. Suddenly, you’re very glad you were too lazy to fold the futon back up this morning.  
Dirk doesn’t have you kiss your way over there with him, he flashsteps over (his sudden absence very jarring for you) and lies on his side, like he’s posing for a sexy calendar or something.  
You just walk like a normal person, undoing your tie the rest of the way (Dirk looks decidedly disappointed) and unbuttoning your shirt. You throw it into your corner.  
You’re very aware of the way Dirk is looking at you – and you’re pretty damn sure you like it, if the twitch in your cock is anything to go by.  
You drop down, kneeling on the futon, and Dirk pulls you forward by the waistband of your pants, till your stomach is level with his mouth. He kisses it, sucks hard enough that you’re pretty sure you’re going to have a hickey. You twitch inside your boxers again when Dirk flicks the button of your pants open then pulls the zipper down with his teeth. You swallow, and your hips nudge forward involuntarily.  
He pulls your pants down to your thighs, and mouths you through the cotton of your boxers, and you hiss, teased and more turned on that you’ve been in a long time. He pulls away suddenly, and you cease to be upset when you realised he’s sat up to take his shirt off.

In any normal situation that involved Dirk taking his shirt off, you’re fairly sure your balls would shrivel and you’d go off and weep for your lost confidence and alpha male status – but in this situation, you’re just kind of flinging yourself forward and pressing your flat chest to his sculpted one. You didn’t think the feel of hot skin on skin could ever feel as good as this, and your fingers run up and down Bro’s taut back.  
His waist is so narrow and everything is defined and _tight_ and you don’t even know what you want to do to him, but you’re damn sure it’s something filthy.  
You run a hand up his stomach muscles to his smooth chest and hang your arm over a sculpted shoulder.

“Your chest is so…”

“Beautiful?”

“Bald.” You snort. “Do you shave it or are you just like… five from the neck down.”

“It’s a little shaved.” He says, with a shrug. You’re too busy laughing at him to notice he’s pushed you down. He climbs onto you so he’s straddling your hips (his weight providing a maddening pressure) and he leans down and sucks at your neck, moving his way down your body, till he pauses at your chest.  
“We can’t all be surprisingly hirsute.” He says, nosing at your moderately impressive patch of chest hair. “I was expecting some little twink; I practically got a bear, yo.” He licks a nipple, and you wriggle, and snort a laugh.

“Have you ever seen the pictures of me with the moustache from last Movember?” You ask. He looks you right in the eyes, his narrowed and thoughtful.

“Why do I find that kind of hot?” 

“Because you’re smooth and bald like a baby.” You suggest. He bites at your ribs, and you gasp (so you like being bitten, so sue you) and run your fingers into Dirk’s hair.

“At least my side burns are fucking magnificent. If you think my chest is smooth, just wait till you see my penis.” He says, into your tummy, which he kisses and bites, working his way southward, and seemingly ignoring your giggling. “You’re laughing but it’s smooth as a Hollywood starlet’s bajingo.”

“Why?” You ask, still laughing.

“Because I get a regular wax from this guy I know from the industry.” He shrugs, then blows a raspberry against your stomach, and you squirm and squeak like a little kid.

“Why!?” you yelp.

“I’m fucking hygiene conscious.” He says, clearly suppressing a chuckle. His fingers play with the waistband of your boxers. “And now I’m fucking having to go exploring in the amazon.”

“Hey, I keep it tidy; I just don’t get rid of it all!” You protest. You’re suddenly kind of struck by the image of Dirk between your legs, chin hovering just over the tent in your boxers. He’s looking up at you with warm, heavy eyes, and you let out a little, shuddering breath.  
“Note that you’re using your mouth to discuss pubes instead of sucking my dick.” 

“Wow, look who’s assuming I’m going to be sucking their dick all of a sudden.” He says, smirking. You just wave your hand at him, and he barks a laugh, which takes you back a bit. He shakes his head, and starts tugging off your boxers, _very_ slowly and you hiss as the fabric drags over your erection.  
“Woah.”

“What?”

“Just a nice dick, is all.” Dirk says, giving you an approving nod. You cover your face with your hand.

“Tha-aha…” Apparently Dirk is not wasting a moment, because before you have time to thank him, there’s the wonderfully familiar sensation of a tongue, flickering against your cock. 

“Hey. Watch.” He commands, and you prop yourself up on your elbows. He wet his lips then rolls them over his teeth, and just takes the head of your cock into his mouth. He sucks. And you arch your back, and he quickly releases you with a lewd pop. He flattens his tongue and licks you from base to tip like your dick is a fucking popsicle.  
He palms your balls, and you’re practically half gone with him barely having done anything, so much so that you’re not even annoyed by the smug expression he’s currently sporting.  
He sucks you again, taking more of you into his mouth this time, and just when you think he’s going to stop, he keeps going. You let out a choked moan as more of you is engulfed into the damp heat of his mouth, and he uses his free hand to push your hips down.  
He swallows you, his throat pulsing around you, and you’re amazed that you don’t come the second his cheeks hollow and he really sucks. You’re past the point of being able to scream, and this is definitely the best blowjob you’ve ever had, as he releases your hips, and just lets you fuck his throat. 

You don’t last much longer, spilling yourself, and feeling him swallow around you. 

He slides your softening dick out of his throat, past his lips, letting it bob down against you thigh, a trail of saliva hanging down from his mouth.  
He pulls your pants and boxers all the way off and you’re too blissed out to be self-conscious. Dirk takes off his own jeans, lying down on the futon and wriggling his way out of them. He’s going commando, and somehow you’re not surprised. He looks painfully hard, head flushed a dark red and a little slick with pre-come.

You’re not exactly sure what you’re going to do with it.

He shuffles over to you on his knees, and spreads your legs. You have a flash of panic.

“Uh…” 

“Oh don’t even Egbert, I’m not going to touch your virgin pucker.” He laughs. “Ever heard of intercrural sex?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Thigh fucking?” He answers only with a waggle of his eyebrows, and fumbles with his sylladex, till he locates a bottle of lube. Then he’s frantically slicking your thighs, and you’re watching with languid interest, your spent cock twitching ever so slightly as he rubs lube on your legs.

He positions his cock a little above yours, then grabs your knees and pushes them together. You’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do with the rest of your legs, but you find your calves swiftly tucked beneath his arms.  
It feels pretty weird, so you just concentrate on the look on Dirk’s face. His teeth are dug deep into his lips, his brow furrowed with concentration he’s staring down at you too, and suddenly you’re struck by the intimacy of it. His hips snap back and forward with almost a violence and his lip snaps out from between his teeth. He lets out a shallow, quiet moan, more a shudder of his breath as he fucks your thighs at rather a merciless pace. Your cock twitches with interest again, and Dirk sighs your name. You want to reach out and touch him but you don’t, you just watch. And it’s just moments before his eyes roll back in his head, he mumbles a string of curse words, and spills himself across your stomach.  
He drops your legs, which fall open, and he falls, panting onto your chest.  
You pull him up for a kiss, and taste yourself on his mouth, and you don’t even mind that you’re sticky and sweaty. Your world dissolves into flickering tongues, and calloused fingers drifting up your sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was the plan  
> to give you a boner  
> well  
> you got one??
> 
> pff thanks for reading and commenting ;3; someone asked for my tumblr in the last bunch of comments, I'm Dorothy-cotton and my blog is terrible


	7. Chapter 7

After you were done, Bro just kind of falls asleep on you. Like, literally after thirty seconds he was out like a fucking light.  
And you were just going to let him sleep, because you’re cool like that. But he’s really heavy. Like. He’s making it hard for you to breathe, is how heavy he is. Also, you feel kind of sticky and gross, and you want to shower.  
You try to do a hug and roll kind of thing, but he’s just too heavy - maybe heavier than you thought, because you’re pretty strong.

“Dude.” You say. There’s no noticeable change in his breathing, still slow and steady against your neck. “Dude wake up.” You try, louder again.  
“Bro. Bro. Bro. Bro. Broseph. Brodirk. Dirk. Dirkle. Dirkington. Dirkli, son of Gloin. Dirko Baggins. You’re a wizard Dirky.”  
You try all of these at gradually increasing volumes, and are answered by only a few soft mumbles. You feel along his sides for his ribs; there, you dig your bony knuckle as hard as you can. He wakes up with a yelp.

“Ow!” Then rolls off of you, almost as a reflex. He scowls, and rubs his side. “The fuck was that for?” He asks, groggily. 

“I can’t breathe, if you’re going to conk out, you can conk out next to me.” You protest. You sit up (still feeling sticky and gross,) and give Dirk’s bare torso a long look before tugging the comforter over him. “Unless you’re ready for another round, I dunno.”

“No.” He grumbles, rolling onto his side. At least he’s still facing you.

“No?”

“No. Half an hour.” He mumbles, he looks at the clock on the VCR before shutting his eyes. “An hour.” He says. Then yawns. “Wake me up at three AM.”

“How fucking old are you, Christ.” You ask. You stand, and begin wandering around, looking for a towel. Sex with women is a lot less messy, you decide. 

“Forty.” He grunts. You chuckle.

“So you’re forty now.”

“Yeah, give or take.”

“Dirk.”

“I swear I’m Forty.” You see him shrug under the quilt. “Two.”

“You are literally twenty years older than me.”

“Bull shit, you’re twenty three.”

“Oh. Oh I’m sorry. You’re literally nineteen years and eight months older than me.”

“How do you know my birthday’s in December?” He asks, opening his eyes.

“Because I fucking made you.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s kind of gross.” 

“I know, right?” You finally find a towel, buried somewhere in your suitcase. It’s clean too. “I’ve seen you as a baby and everything.” You tell Dirk, prodding him with your foot as you wrap the towel around your naked waist. “You broke a glass tube and then just sat in it like: what. What? What the fuck do you want?” You make the same arm movement you remember him making, and your towel falls down. Dirk doesn’t notice 

“Rad.” He mumbles. 

“Yeah, kind of.” You smile. He looks kind of cute when he’s sleepy. Very… Nonthreatening. “I just rolled around while a cat petted my tummy. It was weird. And Nana sat on my head.” You tell him – you get no answer this time. “Dirk? Are you asleep again?” 

“Yes.”

You go take your shower.

You’re pretty disappointed in yourself when you realise you managed to hold out for barely three days. Maybe you liked him without realising.  
Or something.

Oh, who cares.

You towel off your hair, aware of the fact it’s been several hours since you checked your phone. 

Nice and clean, and still thoroughly naked (you were going to put some boxers on, but you decide against it – you feel liberated, swinging free, like a sexy, kempt caveman) you slip back onto the futon, climbing under the covers with Bro, but not without grabbing your phone first.

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

TT: John, you know how, for the most part, our powers left us after we completed the game.  
TT: But we found we still had some residual abilities.  
TT: Like, how Jade can still change the size of medium to small things, and how you can create small gusts and tornados.  
TT: And I believe Dave can stop time for brief intervals.  
TT: Well, to a degree, I still have the ability to “see” whatever I wish to see.  
TT: Or rather, I often “see” what I happen to be thinking about.  
TT: And not a moment earlier, I found myself wondering:  
TT: “Gee, I wonder what my good friend, John, is up to.”  
TT: Now, John, you know me. I’m hardly prone to the sort of Caps locked fury or disgust that you three display on occasion.  
TT: And, of course that our dear friend Karkat displays almost permanently.  
TT: But, what I happened to be viewing, I feel, justifies me in doing this:  
TT: OH MY FUCKING GOD UEFIWHFOERIFHDHIWO WHAT THE HRF WE8IHWFGMFUCK EWW EW EW EW EHUWEIHAS FUWESHAGWUIFUILRFUILFR  
TT: IUGFREILHWF FR WQWHTA WTAHAT THE SFHCDWIAHKS JESUS CHRIST FEGUWHDIS HWO DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT INTERCRURAL SEX IS EBEUHDSJAKAAAARHFH JESUSSUDDUDSKSKD  
TT: IG HDISFUCKFCFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCUFKCUCFUCK.  
TT: Needless to say John, you startled me quite a bit.  
TT: That is something I never want to see again.  
TT: That is the single worst thing that has ever happened to me.  
TT: Ever.  
TT: Ever ever ever ever.  
EB: oh gosh rose, i’m really sorry!!!  
EB: i’m probably way more embarrassed than you are right now!  
TT: I highly doubt that.  
TT: Did you see your father’s shaven testicles slapping against the semen spattered thighs of someone who is like a goddamn brother to you?  
TT: No.  
TT: No, you did not.  
EB: i think they’re waxed, not shaved.  
TT: John, please.  
EB: hehehe, sorry i’m not helping, am i.  
TT: No.  
TT: I just.  
TT: Wow.  
TT: So how long have you and Bro been potting each other’s pink.  
EB: that was literally the first time we’ve done anything sexual.  
EB: you just have really bad timing. i mean, if you’d looked like twenty minutes earlier, you would have seen me cooking.  
TT: My yaoi senses must have been tingling.  
TT: Well. I can’t say this is a complete surprise  
TT: Granted catching you in the act was a complete surprise, but the fact you’re committing the act itself isn’t.  
TT: Ever since Kanaya and Karkat planted the idea in my head, really.  
TT: You’re quite suited to one another, in my opinion.  
EB: uh, thanks i guess? we’re not really serious or anything though. so.  
TT: Oh my. Will you have to change your relationship status to “it’s complicated”?  
EB: hehehe…  
EB: speaking of karkat, he’s been pestering me too.  
EB: uh oh.  
TT: Why uh oh?  
TT: Oh.  
TT: Viewports.   
EB: gross.  
EB: before i go answer him, can you do me a favour and not mention this to dave at all. ever.  
TT: I’ll let you do the honours there.  
TT: Though, tell me when you do it, so I can ask Kanaya to screencap his face for me.  
EB: will do!

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]

 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB]

CG: JOHN ANSWER YOUR PHONE, I HAVE SOME INCREDIBLY USEFUL FUCKING ADVICE FOR YOU.  
CG: JOHN.  
CG: JOHN LOOK AT YOU, YOU’VE LEFT YOUR PHONE OVER ON YOUR SUITCASE.  
CG: LOOK AT YOU CUTTING VEGETABLES WITHOUT YOUR PHONE, WHEN YOU COULD BE HAVING ADVICE, STOWED UNTO YOU BY A GOD.  
CG: AND SHIT.  
CG: IS THAT THE BRO HUMAN?  
CG: HE’S HUGGING YOU, I THOUGHT YOU JUST AGREED TO WAIT IT OUT.  
CG: WOW EGBERT YOU IMPATIENT LITTLE SO AND SO.  
CG: WATCHING YOU IN THIS CONTEXT IS ACTUALLY KIND OF WEIRD.  
CG: AND YET WE CANNOT LOOK AWAY.  
CG: KANAYA AND TEREZI ARE HERE TOO, BY THE WAY.  
CG: OH AND NOW YOU’RE TAKING OFF YOUR FUCKING SHIRT.  
CG: N1C3 BUNS 3GB3RT >:]  
CG: WO4H 1S TH4T D4V3S 4NC3STOR???  
CG: 1 H4V3 B33N T4LK1NG TO TH3 WRONG STR1DER  
CG: SERBDSANK3333333  
CG: I’M BACK  
CG: WOAH  
CG: OH SHIT THAT’S A HUMAN BONE BULGE  
CG: YOU GUYS ONLY HAVE ONE?  
CG: THAT’S FUCKING GROSS IT DOESN’T MOVE AT ALL WHY IS HE PUTTING IT IN HIS MOUTH??  
CG: WHAT ABOUT HIS TEETH WON’T THEY HURT YOUR TENDER, PINK HUMAN  
CG: WELL I SUPPOSE YOUR TEETH ARE PATHETIC AND BLUNT, SO IT WOULDN’T MATTER AS MUCH.  
CG: THIS DISPLAY OF HUMAN MATING IS STILL DISGUSTING.  
CG: Im Finding It Strangely Compelling  
CG: Karkat Went All Quiet So I Took Over  
CG: Well It Looks Like Youre Certainly Enjoying Yourself There John  
CG: Congratulations On Having Filled Your Flushed Quadrant  
CG: You  
CG: Why Is He Putting His Bulge Between Your Legs  
CG: Dont You Have A Nook  
CG: No Im Sure You Do  
CG: Well  
CG: Your Human Females Certainly Do  
CG: Oh Well Now It Looks Like The Bro Human Is Enjoying Himself  
CG: Quite A Lot  
CG: Hes A Handsome Fellow Isnt He  
CG: Human Genetic Material Is White Is It How Strange  
CG: TH3 SCR33N TAST3S L1K3 D3L1C1OUS V4N1LLA  
CG: 4WW YOU’R3 CUDDL1NG TH4TS N1C3  
CG: YOU KNOW WHO DO3SNT L1K3 TO CUDDL3 4FT3R M4T1NG  
CG: 1LL G1V3 YOU 4 A H1NT 1TS K4RK4T  
CG: SHIT LIKE THIS IS THE REASON WE BROKE UP.  
CG: SH1T L1K3 YOU SUCK 1S TH3 R34SON W3 BROK3 UP!!!!  
CG: They Started Fighting In Real Life  
CG: Perhaps I Should Log Out Being That Youre Clearly Not Answering Nor Are You In Need Of Our Help  
CG: Uh  
CG: I Feel Some What Awkward  
CG: Oh Look Youve Picked Up Your Phone Well Done Ill Just Sit Tight In Case You Do Want To Speak To Us After Reading This Through

ectoBiologist [EB] has blocked carcinoGeneticist [CG]

 

You set your phone down, feeling more than a little violated, and cuddle up next to Dirk. You’re not really all that tired though – you’ve been told this is something of a phenomenon.  
You close your eyes and try to let yourself drift off to the steady sound of Dirk’s breathing. You were expecting him to snore, for some reason.

“This is so weird.” You say quietly to yourself.

Ultimately, you’re trying not to think about the fact you just had some sex with someone who is effectively your best friend’s Dad. But he’s a lot more than that to you. He’s… just Dirk, you guess. Your good buddy Dirk. Your good, really weird, old-guy buddy Dirk.  
You know, it’s funny, because your Dad just turned forty eight in June, which means you’re sleeping with a man who is practically your Dad’s age.  
You laugh nervously to yourself.

Well, Gosh, you guess it could be a whole lot worse. Like, he could be older than your Dad. Now, now that would be a social taboo, this, what you’re doing here, is pretty much Okay. You totally pass the “half your age plus seven” test, don’t you?  
Well, you would if you were twenty eight…

You need to stop. Your age is a stupid thing to get hung up on.

If anything, you should really be getting hung up on how upset Dave is probably going to be, or the fact he makes puppet porn for a living, or the… the whole puppet thing in general.

Oh, gross, what if he makes you bone one of his puppets.

Wow, this was probably a really terrible idea.

Dirk, suddenly, rolls onto his side, and hits you with a limp hand.

“Egbert.”

“What?”

“Stop freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out.” You snort.

“You’re doing that nervous leg-bounce thing. So either quit that or stop freaking out.” His other hand finds your thigh, and stills it. You hadn’t even noticed you’d been doing that.

“I’m not freaking out!” You snap, without meaning to.

“What is it?” He asks, somewhat awkwardly, clearly trying to sound caring. Not that you think he doesn’t care, just that he’s not every good at showing it, exactly.  
“That you’re freaking out over, I mean.”

“Nothing.” 

“Is it because I’m a guy?” He asks. You _think_ he’s trying to be gentle with you, but he just sounds a little quieter, than he usually does.

“No. It’s not that you’re a guy. In fact, that’s actually at the bottom of a pile of things to potentially freak out about.” You mumble.

“What’s at the top of the pile?”

“Honestly?”

“I kind of did all this like a month ago, so I kind of want to compare notes.”

“Oh. Um, okay.” You smile a little, and so does he. At least it’s not just you. “Well, I fail the half-your-age-plus-seven test.”

“Yeah I felt pretty creepy about that.” He says, then shrugs. “I figured it didn’t really matter because… You’re an adult, aren’t you? You wanna date the old guy, you can date the old guy.”

“I guess.” You say. You kind of want to roll over and face him, but you don’t. You carry on staring at the ceiling. “Uh. You’re also practically the same age as my Dad.”

“No way. How old is Egbert?” 

“He’s forty eight.”

“Oh. Damn.” Dirk groans. “It’s just kind of hard to tell with him.”

“Yeah, to be fair I’m pretty sure my Dad came out of the womb looking and acting like he was sort of in his forties.” You say, chuckling slightly. You clear your throat.  
“Also, you make puppet porn for a living, and I work with little kids. That’s… well, it’s not the best combination, and I think I could probably get into a lot of trouble, maybe. Or at least, it would cause some kind of stupid scandal thing.”

“Yeah, I thought about that.” He shuffles a little closer to you. “Uh. Which is probably why I should… come clean to you about something.”

“Uh oh.”

“Well. Let me just start off by saying I was eighteen, and I knew I was going to have a fucking baby dumped on me in a couple of years – and I didn’t know why I knew, I just knew… And. I figured I needed money fast.” He takes a deep breath. “So… I may or may not have starred in a handful of pornographic films… Several of which may or may not involve puppets.”

You do roll over and face him this time.  
“… How many is a handful.”

“Uh… Probably about… ten.”

“Wow.” Part of you… kind of wants to see them. Not the puppet ones though. That would be weird.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” You say. You’re blushing now, because… well, it’s like you’re having a proper relationshippy talk, and you don’t know how you feel about being… relationshippy.  
“Uh. Okay, so. Your career aside. Like. However long this is going to last. I guess. Um, my biggest problem is… Dave. He isn’t going to be happy.”

“I know.” He sighs. “I’m… kind of hoping he’d be mature about it. I mean. I fucking raised him to be an open minded kid, so.” He shuffles a little closer to you again, and your noses are almost touching. “Well. Fuck, I dunno.” He grunts. “Let’s stop talking.” He says, and kisses you for a while, and gosh he really is good at it.

“Yeah. Yeah, I like not talking.” You say, against his lips. 

“And no thinking” His hand is around your waist, and you find yourself climbing onto him, and straddling his hips.

“None.” You say, with a grin, leaning down to kiss him again. “So… are you ready for another round now?”

He kisses the shell of your ear, and whispers “Uh…”

Wait, that’s not what he should be whispering! “Uh” isn’t sexy!

“Seriously? You have a lapful of naked me, and all I’m getting is ‘Uh’?” You whine, pulling back.

“It’s only been like half an hour since we did it!” Dirk protests. “And I haven’t napped.” 

You sigh dramatically, and climb off of him to retrieve your boxers. 

“Oh goddammit, just go to back to sleep, I’m fucking hungry any way.” 

*

Where previously your days were filled with work and surfing the internet, they’re now filled work and… Bro’s dick.

Yep. 

Mostly he’ll suck you and you’ll jerk him off, just because you’re a teensy bit nervous about reciprocating, just because he’s so good at it, and you’re so sure you’re going to suck.

You’re going to suck as in, you’re going to be bad at giving the actual blowjob, because obviously you’re going to have to suck literally because that’s kind of the whole point.

Oh boy.

*

You’re hardly back from work five minutes one Tuesday night before you find yourself with two arms full of Dirk.  
You don’t even have time to kick off your shoes and take off your jacket before he’s leapt onto you, mouth skilful, and demanding as always. 

“I love you in a suit.” He murmurs. You’re pressed against the front door, and you don’t even protest when he drops straight onto his knees, and unbuckles your belt. “And I have been looking forward to this _all_ day.”

“I couldn’t tell!” You say, your voice squeaking. You think about him a lot at work, to the point that even the kids notice. You thank God you don’t teach older kids, because six year olds can’t tell oversexed from just plain tired. Terrence even gave you a “get well soon” card (while his mommy chose to comment on the hickey you’d thought you’d covered with your shirt collar).

You card your hand through his hair while he pulls down your suit pants, then palms you through your underwear till you’re as hard as he wants you to be. 

“Gosh, you’re eager!” You remark, as he pulls your underwear down. “I mean. Wow. That’s. Eager personified there.” You stammer. He rolls his eyes at you, looking up over his shades, before he takes you all the way into his mouth ( _fucking show off_ ) and down his throat.  
You stuff your fist in your mouth because there are kids in this building who play in the hallways, and the last thing you want is complaints, or people knocking on the door, especially considering that you didn’t even get the chance to lock it, and your naked ass is pressed to the wood. 

He’s swallowing around you, and you know, he’s not even bothering with teasing you like he usually does, which makes you think he really must have been looking forward to this all day. Your hips jump forward, and his throat moves around you again, and you might actually bite a chunk out of your fist. 

He slips you out of his throat, and just _sucks_ , working what he can’t fit in his mouth with his fist. He’s hypnotic to watch, face hollowing beneath his sharp cheek bones. It almost tips you over the edge when he suddenly pulls off you completely and starts pumping your cock with his fist, clearly aiming the tip at his face, with an expression of determination. 

You try to say “Oh my God” around your fist, but it doesn’t quite come out, and Dirk just gives you the most wicked grin, digging his teeth into his bottom lip a little (and even though it probably shouldn’t be, given his age and the context, it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever seen). And that is it.  
Pleasure cracking down your back like a lightning bolt, you come, streaking his face and his shades with your come.

The emotion you feel is the kind that could only really be conveyed with a dramatic key smash, as your knees give out, and you slide down the door like happy little slug.

“Oh my fucking _God_.” You say, removing your half eaten fist from your mouth.

Dirk leans forward, still on his knees and kisses you, and you taste yourself on him. Before he can make the kiss deeper, you pull back. You’re struck with an idea, and you hope it’s hot and not creepy or weird or stupid.  
You kiss his cheek, nibbling your way along his face till you find a stripe of semen. You lap at it, and Dirk groans, allowing you to clean his face off with your tongue. You snort, and mew into his ear, and he answers with half a laugh, and half a moan.

“What do you say we take this to the futon?” He says. “I’m not done here, and I’ve got an assful of one of your sneakers.” 

“You’re the one who molested me in the door way, man.” You say, sounding about as blissed out as you feel.  
He stands, and trots over to the futon with an urgency that is rather unlike him, shedding his shirt and his sweatpants along the way. Meanwhile you’re trying to take off your pants around your shoes, and you don’t even realise you’ve done it till they’re half way off, and you’re just sitting in the doorway, half naked and tangled up in your own pants.

You get them off (eventually) throwing them into the living room, and leaving your shoes by the door, where they belong.

You dump your jacket in the same pile, and you only managed to get your shirt halfway unbuttoned before you’ve got naked-Dirk whining and demanding your presence.

You sit yourself on his stomach, plucking off his shades and placing them on the floor by his head.

“So.” You say. “Thanks for that.” And you drum your fingers on his chest lightly. He looks at you, clearly un-amused and impatient.

“John… Come on.”

“Come on and do what?” You say, mischievously, flicking a few more of your shirt buttons open. Dirk looks… unimpressed.

“Seriously?” He says. “Are you doing that like you’re going to make me beg you to suck my dick? Because that doesn’t really work when you’re with someone who has no shame.”

You… Suppose he has a point.

“Wow, okey dokey, you’re really sapped the fun out of that.” You say. And you begin shifting your way down his body, till you’re settled between his legs, staring his dick right in the eye. “So I’m doing that. I’m making it happen.”

“Yes.” He says, nudging you with his knee. He lifts his head up, suddenly a little concerned (his face is flushed pink, and there’s still a little come on his cheek, and his hair is a mess, and God he just looks so amazing) “Egbert, I ask you this as both a friend and fellow man – for the love of all that is good and plush, please mind your teeth.”

You flick the inside of his thigh. “Hey, come on I’m not totally retarded and or inexperienced.” Then you kiss the spot you’ve flicked, and work your way further inward. “I’ve given one whole blowjob before, you know.” You were nineteen and very, very drunk.

Dirk’s head drops back down. “Woah, look at fucking pimp daddy John over there.” He says. You laugh a little, deciding to suck a tiny hickey next to this birthmark he has on his thigh, “Oh Sweet Baby Jesus, you’re killing me.” Dirk protests. And you suppose he does look painfully hard.  
You give his cock something of an investigational lick, wrapping your hand around the base and gently squeezing (basically copying a combo of what you’ve remembered from porn and what you’ve seen Dirk do) and Dirk sighs heavily.  
So… You guess you’re going to have to try sucking it.

You’ve just got to. Put it in your mouth.  
And.

Yup.

“John…” Dirk whines.

“I’m doing it!” You respond, and now you feel about five, but that’s okay. Just like Dirk does, you roll your lips over your teeth, and just… put your mouth on the head.  
You kind of wish you’d spat on your hand or something, and you try and work the shaft dry.

It doesn’t taste as bad as you expected. In fact, it doesn’t really taste like anything, except a little salty and maybe kind of bitter (and soap – he probably showered).

Dirk hisses out a “Fuck!” when you start sucking, and you guess he must be really worked up, because you’re pretty sure you’re terrible at this.

But you carry on, gradually sucking harder and working your hand a little faster, taking Dirk’s hissing and swearing as encouragement. You don’t want to gag and fuck it up, so you pretty much just work the head with your mouth. Dirk, however, seems perfectly satisfied with this, and even runs a shaking, sweaty hand through your hair, and splutters, “You’re doing _so_ good, John.” And your dick twitches with interest. He’s been reduced to a little puddle of wanton Dirk-goo, which you like, because it prevents him from being a total ass to you (also it’s kind of totally hot too, and he looks amazing, and you think you really like the way he tastes, and the fact you can feel him twitching and pulsing against your tongue)

He comes not too long after that, taking you off guard and giving you no time to prepare yourself. You try to swallow, but… honestly it tastes a little gross (considerably worse than your own, actually) and the consistency is really foreign, and you guess there’s more of it than you expected. You let him ride out his orgasm though, before you pull back, spluttering and dribbling come down your chin.  
You crawl up his chest and kiss him, tonguing pretty much as much of his come as yo can into his own mouth. 

“Did I do good?” You ask, a deliberately childish lilt to your voice. 

“I’ve had better, I’ve had worse.” He says, ruffling your hair.

“You’re so sweet.” You say. “Your come tastes terrible.”

His face gives this… sort of apologetic twitch. “That’s because my diet is shitty, and I smoke.”

“You smoke?” 

“Eh, sometimes.” 

“Dude.” You chastise, with a little slap to his chest (that actually kind of hurts your fingers)

“It makes me look cool.” He says, shrugging. You have to admit, you kind of like the idea of him smoking, because gosh he’s pretty when he’s sucking things, but you’re never going to tell him that.

“Please, you couldn’t look cool even if you were standing next to…” You trail off, unable to think of something funny. You were going to say Dave, but ripping on him is getting pretty old.

“Who?”

“I dunno, who cares, you suck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PCHOOOOOOOOOOS OFF INTO SPACE BECAUSE I CAN'T BELIEVE SO MANY PEOPLE ARE READING THIS, THANK YOU SWEET PRECIOUS CHILDREN
> 
> I am not worthy of this uguuu ;_;
> 
> speaking of things I'm not worthy of look at this awesome fanart by Spaceeyes it's perfect:  
> http://spaceeyes.tumblr.com/post/18119115439/have-i-ever-mentioned-how-much-i-love-bro-john
> 
> Oh yes, I'm now rating this as an E because John came on Bro's face, I feel like that's E worthy


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry.

It’s a Wednesday night, and Dirk is on the kitchen counter staring mournfully at New Lil Cal when you come in from work. You are very aware of the fact you are covered head to toe in glitter. You were having a craft day and someone could have easily come into your classroom and mistaken it for the scene of a pixie massacre. You hung back a little late to personally apologise to the cleaner.

You ditch your shoes and your bag and your jacket by the door. One of the great things about living in a total sty is that, when you’re feeling lazy, you can just dump your shit wherever and no one’s going to be a dick at you for it. 

“Any particular reason you’re staring at your puppet?” You ask him. He sighs.

“Nah, just thinking.” And clears his throat. “Dave’s not coming home for our birthdays. Or Christmas. Or New Year.”

“Oh.” You say. He looks… maybe a little sad? “Well, you’re always welcome at my Dad’s. Rose and Mom’ll be there, obviously.”

“You’re calling her Mom?”

“Yeah. I never had a Mom, so.” You shrug. He sits Lil Cal down beside him, and you busy yourself washing the glitter off your hands. “When’s your birthday? I remember December, just not the day.”

“Mine’s the first. Roxy’s is the second, Dave’s is the third and Rose’s is the fourth.” He says, listing each birthday off on his fingers. 

“Maybe we should go to Washington for your birthdays?” You suggest, drying your hands. Bro shakes his head. 

“Nah, screw that. It’d be nice to go for Christmas, but. Well the plane tickets cost a lot, and then, if we drove it’d take us like two, maybe three days. Twice in a month is a little much just for our birthdays.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

“And. I guess it would be nice to spend my birthday with you. Or some shit.” He says, tentatively. You smile, just as hesitant, and dry your hands.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Is… That cool with you? I mean ‘cause. Fuck, I know you’re not like. Comfortable, and stuff, totally, yet, and. Uh.” He stammers.

“No, it’s cool! Sorry.” You say, hastily. You smile, and his face twitches, he pinches his nose for a second, and you swear you can see a light blush on his cheeks. “You know, you’re cute when you’re flustered.” You tell him. He frowns.

“I’m not cute, I can’t be cute, I’m almost fuh fuh fuh forty three.”

“You’re a cutie patootie.” 

He snorts at you. “You are the only person who has ever called me cute. Ever. Even when I was fucking five no one ever called me cute.” 

“Seriously?”

“Didn’t exactly warrant, it to be fair. I was a scrappy little fucker.”

“No one ever calls me anything other than cute.” You tell him. You start fishing around in the kitchen drawer nearest to you for the takeout menus. You’re not in the mood to cook. “I was once fucking this girl, and she kept going ‘Aww!’ and papping my face. Then when we were done, she said ‘that was precious’ and I think my dick shrunk three sizes.” You find yourself blushing. Probably on behalf of your past self, considering that was one of the most embarrassing sexual encounter you’d ever had. “Granted it wasn’t as bad as what happened when I lost my virginity.” You say, thinking aloud, and wishing you hadn’t.  
Dirk smiles. Really smiles.

“Why, what happened there?” He asks. You’re compelled to tell him, because his smile really is cute, and you are so fucking pathetic and lame.

“She told me I made a really good effort. Then she patted my butt and said ‘nice try, kid’.”

“She called you kid?”

“Yeah. My first girlfriend was a little older than me, she used to call me kid a lot.” You say. Actually, when you think about it for a moment, “So was my second.” And then when yo think for a moment longer, “Most of my girlfriends were older than me, now I think about it.” You say. Dirk tips his shades, and narrows his eyes.

“… How much older?”

“Well, Marcy, the first girl. She was thirty.”

“And you were?”

“… Seventeen.”

“Wow.” He says. 

“Um. Farah was like twenty five and I was nineteen… Emma was thirty two, Trish was twenty eight. Monica was thirty four.”

You hadn’t noticed that before. Wow, that’s. Well that’s just too much of a pattern to be coincidence, isn’t it?

Dirk grins. “This is a fucking fetish or something, isn’t it?”

“No!” You protest. You’ve tensed up with realising, and you relax. “I mean. Maybe, I guess.” You say. Dirk starts to chuckle, still grinning at you, clearly amused. God this is embarrassing. “Not on purpose! I mean, they weren’t all old, I accidentally boned a seventeen year old last year!” You blurt.

Dirk’s jaw drops. “Oh my fucking god. How do you accidentally bone an under aged girl? Did your dick just fall in her or something?” You grab a menu and smash it against your face.

“She told me she was eighteen! Plus, I was distracted.”

“Why?”

“She.” Oh gosh, you could just crawl into a hole and die. “Okay, so I have this thing for uniforms, and she was wearing this tiny plaid school skirt and you could see her panties, and I like panties too, and, okay, she was in the club so I thought she was in freaking costume, not her actual uniform masquerading as a costume!”

Dirk barks a laugh (It’s less of a laugh, actually. Kind of more like a honk, like a goose) “You are sick.” He says. You drop the menu, outraged, and sweep a hand over the apartment.

“Look around you, Bro.” You say. And he does, noting the smuppets scattered everywhere, the fucking muppet babies posters. Naked Mr T Puppet and Naked Chuck Norris Puppet are slung over a blade of the ceiling fan by their handcuffs. 

“Touché.” Says Dirk.

Your face is still red, and you drag a hand over it like you’re trying to wipe it away. “Okay. Notice how you practically have my entire sexual history and I know nothing about you. Apart from that you did porn.”

“Uh…” Dirk swings his legs and kicks the cupboards behind his feet. “There ain’t a whole lot to tell, honestly.”

“Wow then we won’t be here for long. Just spill.” You say, smirking. “Come on, how old were you when you swiped your V-card?”

“Which V-card?” He asks. “Penis card or Butt card.”

“Both?”

“eighteen and fourteen.”

“Fourteen? Four fucking teen?” You squeak. Oh god, have you goaded him into telling you some horrible, traumatic story? _Will you have to prepare tea and tissues_

“Don’t you slut shame me.”

“I’m not just… that’s just way young!” You say, one hand finding your mouth. Half in shock, half trying to stop yourself from saying anything.

“Yeah. When I was still in the system this family with three sons took me in. The youngest one was seventeen and we bonded pretty quickly. With our penises.” He waggles his eyebrows. You pick up the menu on the floor and try to toss it at him. He had you worried there for a second. “He was a good kid. Not gay though. We only fucked like three times. Broke my heart a little when he was all ‘dude I got a girlfriend, so maybe we should stop’.”

“Aww, dude, I’m so sorry.” You say, even though your brain is screaming MY POOR BABY and you really wish it wouldn’t do that, christ.

“Eh.” He shrugs. “But yeah, I started acting out, and that family gave me up when I set fire to their kitchen on purpose.” He mumbles. You could just hug him. Maybe you should hug him. “Uh. Then I didn’t really sleep with any one again, until I was eighteen, when I met… Oh God, you cannot mention this to anyone ever, okay?” He says, visibly cringing. You grin.

“My lips are sealed.”

“When I was eighteen, I had the pleasure of meeting Roxy for the first time.”

Now your jaw drops. “No. _No._ ”

“Oh yeah.” He hums, picking up Lil Cal and fiddling with his arms.

“ _No._ ”

“She spent a summer here before college. We had a whirlwind bromance.”

“Gross!” You squeak. So your step-mom has seen your boyfriend-thing’s penis. She has touched that penis. And so have you. That penis has been inside of her. Your Mom is currently in possession of that penis’ virginity.  
You realising you’re just twisting your face, and staring at Dirk’s crotch.

“Nah. It was. Nice. I guess.” He says.

“Aww, my Dad is going to hate you.” You sigh.

“Thanks.” He snorts. “Any way, then came the porn. And then I got Dave, so I never really had a relationship per-se. A lot of one-nighters and stuff, but that’s all.” He shrugs. “When the game thing finished, I tried… You know. Dating.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, didn’t work out so good.” 

“How come?” You ask. Dirk sweeps his hand over the apartment. You nod. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He hops off the counter. “Well, my gig’s in twenty minutes, so I better go.” He says. He strolls over to you, and plants a kiss on your cheek. So does Lil Cal. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“See you!” You say, and he’s out of the door in a flash-step. You smile to yourself. You know more about him. You know about Dirk Strider. No one knows about Dirk Strider.  
You feel kind of buzzy, and fuzzy and just good, and it’s nice being with him, and knowing about him.  
You grin.

*

 

December comes quicker than you think it should, and with no word from the Principal about the lady you’re replacing, you’re kind of hoping they’re going to keep you on as a permanent member of staff. Or at least for the rest of the school year.

Not that you want that old lady to die or anything.

… Yes. That is the exact opposite of what you want.

Granted, if she was rude enough to not die, it would really complicate your situation with Dirk.

Wow, you’re totally not going to think about that right now.

Ah, that’s right. Bury your head in the sand. A coping method that has served your people well. 

*

You must roll over in your sleep and hit Dirk in the face, because when you wake up, he has a mouth full of your elbow.

“Aww, happy birthday to me, you motherfucker.” He says, nipping you. You whine and slap him on the chest before pulling your elbow away, and huddling close to him.

“Happy birthday, douchebag.” You mumble, sleepily. “Fuck you for biting me.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

“Fuck you for even being born. Fuck myself for making you.”

“Do I get my present now, or do I get it later?” He asks. “Please tell me at least one of my gifts is your dick in a box.” He sits up, and you yawn.

“Well now you ruined it.” You say. “I wasn’t getting you my dick in a box. I mean, I had a little ribbon for it, but I wasn’t gonna put it in a box.” He laughs, then bounces up and down childishly, demanding his present. “Here you go, you impatient bastard.” You grunt, dropping his first gift from your sylladex. You love the simple fetch modus. It’s great. Life is good.  
Dirk takes the neatly wrapped package, and ears at it with his teeth. You smirk to yourself. He shakes a DVD out of the wrapping.

“Dude.” He says simply, giving you a look.

You’d spent hours hunting down his old porn on amazon, and managed to find one on DVD. It was a porn parody of the Labyrinth, and it had Dirk dressed in a parody of David Bowie’s costume on the cover. He was smirking at the camera, and had a boy wearing nothing but a loose white shirt curled up at his feet. The boy’s face was dangerously close to the frankly very exaggerated bulge in Dirk’s leggings.

Dirk stares at it.

“Is this okay, ‘cause I had no idea what to get you, so I thought this would be… funny, at least.” You garble, sitting up yourself and slinging an arm around his shoulder. He chuckles lightly.

“Yes. Fuck. Fuck yes this is awesome! This was my favourite!” He says. “Okay, we’re gonna watch this, then we’re going to fucking mount it on the thing on the wall.”

You smile. “I thought you might wanna, so, I also got you this.” You pull his second gift from your sylladex, and he unwraps it with gusto. It’s a frame, about the right size to mount a DVD with. Dirk makes a little noise of delight.

“John, you’re like the best John ever. Oh gosh, let me kiss you. Let me kiss you right on your face.” He grabs you, and kisses you. It starts out like a pretty platonic thank you kiss, then moves into a not so platonic sexy kiss, till he’s pulled you on top of him, and you’re lying across his chest. “Do I get a sex present too? That’s a thing people do, isn’t it?” He asks, blinking his bright brown eyes at you. You giggle. Oh god, you just giggled.

“Yeah, sure. Verbal contract for one free sex.” 

“Anything goes?”

“Maybe not anything.”

*

“Seriously, John, this is like the best part.” Dirk says, delighted. You come out from under the pillow you’re cringing behind, and take your fingers out of your ears.  
As if Dirk in spandex and eyeliner wasn’t bad enough, you’d already had to watch him bone like three young boys while a crowd of horrific puppets watch.

Dirk sat on a throne in a room full of puppets in leathers, while a boy in Pyjamas curled up at his feet. You recognise this scene. This is basically a hot for shot remake of Labyrinth with more 200% more gay sex.

“Oh my God, is this fucking Dance Magic.” You say, mortified. Dirk giggles.

“You bet your sweet ass it is.” 

Meanwhile, the onscreen Dirk has stood, and sauntered over to a group of puppets.

 _“You remind me of the babe.”_ He purrs.

_“What babe?”_

_“The babe with the body.”_

_“What body?”_

_“The body with buttocks.”_

_“But what?”_

_“Buttocks!”_

_“What?”_

_“Buttocks on the babe!”_ IRL Dirk turns to you, grinning wildly, and you bury your face in your hands. On screen Dirk begins to sing.  
 _“I saw my baby, jerking hard as babe could jerk, what could I do? My baby’s love had gone, and left baby’s balls blue, nobody knew!”_  
He actually sings pretty well, and does a damn good David Bowie impression. “Hey, that’s pretty good.” You tell him. He snorts.

“It was dubbed, I’m awful.” He says. “Now shut up and listen to the puppets.”

 _“What kind of sexual aid to use?”_ ask the puppets.

“Vibes and plugs?”

“Dildos and drugs?”

“Beads and fleshlights?”

And Dirk cuts in. _“But baby said – ass magic ass!”_

 _“Ass magic ass!”_ trill the puppets. You wish you were dead, why did you buy this for him

_“Cock magic thrust!”_

_“Cock magic thrust!”_

_“Put that magic cock in me, stretch my butthole, set sperm free!”_

“ _Turn this off._ ” You squawk. Dirk fucking cackles. Then starts singing along. And he does suck. 

“No, the scene where. Um. You know in the movie where Sarah eats the evil peach, and gets sucked into the ball and imagines dancing with David Bowie to that song.”

“It’s called As the World Falls Down, and it’s beautiful.” You snap.

“Yeah, well let me skip to that at least, because it’s great.”

“How did Jim Henson not fucking sue you people.” You whine. Dirk chuckles again, and skips through about half an hour of twinks and puppets screwing. You’re not even a little bit hard, because this is genuinely the least erotic, most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen.  
The boy on screen, the equivalent of Sarah, stumbles through a forest in no pants and big shirt. And some kind of plot shit happens, but instead of him biting a peach, he sticks a dildo up his butt.  
Then Dirk is blowing bubbles, and twink!Sarah is seeing himself in the bubbles, and then he’s in a really skanky dress at a ball full of skankily dressed puppets in phallic masks.  
His eyes meet Dirk’s across the room, and the song kicks in.

_“There’s such a big cock, deep in your ass, a kind of fuck stick, thrusting so fast, within your ass. I’d place my cock, within your ass.”_

“No.” You say. Dirk is howling. Dirk on screen approaches Twink!Sarah, and takes him in his arms, they do this weird fucking. Grindy, frotting dance.

_“There’s such a tight hole, betwixt your cheeks, in search of new dick, a dick that is fat within your ass. I’ll place my dick within your ass.”_

Then they’re basically dry humping on the dancefloor.

“I hate myself for buying this.”

“You’re missing the song’s excellent lyrical content.”

_“And as the jizz sweeps through, make me long for you, and my cock is hard, bite your fist I’ll go in dry, but I’ll be gentle with you hoo hoo ooooo, as I fuck your butt.”_

You leap up and snatch the remote, trying to find standby, but Dirk snatches it back before you can.

_“Fucking… Fucking your butt.”_

“Watch me hump this twink, watch me hump him!” He commands. And you cover your eyes and scream like a little girl.

“This is the worst birthday ever!” You say.

“It’s not even your birthday.” Dirk says. You take advantage of his confusion to turn the TV off. 

“Never again.” You say.

“You’re gonna sit with me and watch it someday.” He tells you, smug. You shake your head.

“No.”

He suddenly belts, “ _Your eyes can be so cruel!_ ” and you try to smother him with your pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.  
> so.  
> Sorry.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCREAMS OPENLY AT CODING I SPENT LIKE 3 HOURS DOING THIS I GIVE UP I'LL COME BACK TO IT LATER *FLIPS TABLES*
> 
> sobbing, I just used feferi's typing for roxy because it seems japsersprite isn't on the skin and idk if it's been updated for the alpha kids yet so fgydis
> 
> thanks for reading and comments golly you're all great thank you

The rest of Dirk’s birthday was largely uneventful. You ask him if he wants you to cook for him – he doesn’t. What he does want is a large pizza and an order of Sweet and sour pork from the takeout.  
When you ask why he says “Sweet and sour pizza. I’m making it happen.”

You try it. It’s pretty damn disgusting, but it was a valiant effort on his part. He pouts, and tells you that last year’s sweet and sour KFC was much better.

“Couldn’t you feel it physically clogging your arteries as you ate it?”

“I eat it for that feeling.” He says, chewing a lump of sweet and sour pork as he stretches out on the futon. “It reminds me of how glad I am I work out so much. It means I can eat pure filth.” He lies a hand over his taut stomach, and drums his fingers.

“But then, you smoke so you can’t be that healthy.” You say. You dab some sweet and sour sauce off the pizza with a wad of kitchen roll, then discard it next to you. You used to be quite neat.

“Not regularly.” He says shrugging.

“But just regularly enough that it makes your jizz taste bad.” You remind him. He snorts. “I read somewhere that pineapple makes it taste sweeter.” You say, around a mouthful of greasy pizza.

“Huh. Where’d you read that, Cosmo?” 

“… it’s all we have in the break room.”

“Jesus Christ.” He laughs, and pushes his plate (adorned with crust and orange sauce) away, then loudly sucks his fingers. You kick him, and call him gross, and he just kicks back. Then asks:  
“When do I get to cash in my sex coupon?”

“Whenever.” You say, shrugging and smiling nervously. You stuff the last of your pizza in your mouth, and he rolls over to you, leaning over you to grab the kitchen roll. He cleans off his fingers.  
“Should I be afraid?” you ask. He smiles a charming, lopsided smile at you.

“Nah, don’t be.”

“Can we talk about it?”

He shrugs “Wanna take a bath and talk about it there?”

“Casey is in the bath.” You remind him. Dirk stops and thinks for a moment, shooting a stormy look in the bathroom’s general direction.

“What if we put a kiddie pool in Dave’s room for her?” He suggests, suddenly.

“Oh yeah, perfect!” You say, grinning. You handle getting Casey hauled out of the bathtub (honestly, she’s a little fat now) and drag her into Dave’s room, while Dirk hunts around for Dave’s old kiddy pool (located somewhere in the back of the cupboard Dirk kept his “fucking random shit and stuff” in)

Dirk also finds a bucket, and while you inflate the kiddy pool, Dirk fills it with tepid water. It inflates quite quickly (it’s pretty small and… well, you are still a wind god), and soon Dirk is running in and out with buckets of water, chatting to you as you baby Casey.

“I got this for Dave when he was six, and he wouldn’t shut up about being too hot. So I took it to the roof, captchalogued like a gallon of water or something, and we just sat in this tiny fucking pool full of cold water all day. We got burned to a fucking crisp.” He tells you, while he empties the last bucket. It occurs to you fully that he must really miss Dave, and you guess it breaks your heart a little. You’re pretty pissed Dave isn’t coming home for Christmas now, if only for Dirk’s sake.

“Aww.” You mumble. You pat Casey’s smooth little head, and sit her in the kiddie pool. “In you go there girl.” She blows a bubble, and splashes her itty bitty legs. “B’aww, ain’t she just the cutest little thing?” You squish your face, and Dirk shakes his head at you.

“Yeah, sure. Howsabout we stop going gooey over salamanders, and start rinsing their residue out of our bath?”

“Yes birthday boy, sir.” You snort.

After you’ve rinsed the tub out, you start drawing a bath. Naturally, Dirk has a selection of highly feminine bubble baths tucked away, and you select one that smells like lavender, and claims to relax. While the bath fills, you undress him, while he undresses you. You don’t kiss, but every brief touch promises more, later, and as he sets aside his shades - and you your steamy glasses – you can sense the electricity between you. Comfortable, affectionate and passionate.  
Dirk dips in a toe, when the tub is most of the way full, and declares it suitable, turning off the tap. 

“So how we doing this?” You ask. “Face to face?” You don’t think you’ve had a bath with someone since you were four and you used to get in the tub with your Dad.

“Nah, that’ll get uncomfortable. I’ll get in first, and… hang on,” Dirk climbs into the tub, making a few odd noises of discomfort before lowering himself down. For some reason you avert your eyes, despite the fact you’ve now lost count of the amount of times you’ve seen him naked.  
He spreads his legs, and gestures for you to come sit between them. 

“Oh I see!” You say, smiling, and bouncing toward the tub (you shed the boxer shorts you’d managed to retain) “Won’t your legs get achy?” You ask, as you gently lower yourself into the tub, between Dirk’s legs.

“Maybe.” He says, shrugging. You groan as you sit, the hot water stinging your skin till you become accustomed to it. You lie back against Dirk’s warm, slick chest, and let him circle his arms around you.

“This is nice.” You say. And he mumbles a reply, and twiddles with your chest hair, as he lies back against the rim of the tub, and pulls you further back with him. Everything is hot and lavender smelling, and you can fell the hair on his legs brushing against the hair on yours. The steady rhythm of Dirk’s breathing sooths you, and you feel your eyes slide shut.

“Christ, I could fall asleep here.” You mumble.

“Mmm.” Dirk replies, low in his chest. You feel it rumble.

“We’d better not, because if we’re in this thing all night we’ll catch our death.” You say, despite the fact your eyes are still shut and you feel yourself gradually sliding your way down Dirk’s chest. “Say something awake-making.”

“Egbert the second we get out this bath, I want you to take me to the futon and fuck me.”

“Say what?” Well there you go, you’re certainly awake now. You tilt your neck up to look at him, and he’s staring down at you.

“I want you to fuck me.” He says nonchalantly.

“Gosh.” You say, feeling dumb for doing it, but not really having anything else to reply with. Your dick twitches, just a little. “That’s totally not what I was expecting.”

“It’s been a long time since I bottomed.” He says, sleepily, “I really like getting fucked, but people kind of tend to assume I’d be all top, what with this rock hard, imposing physique and the fact that I’m such an alpha male. I mean fucking look at me, I’m a majestic, silverback gorilla.”

“But all you really want is to be held.”

“Held. Dick up the ass. Same diff.” He shrugs, and tightens his arm around you. “Do you know how and-”

You click your tongue, and cut him off with a slightly affronted: “Dude.”

“What? You’ve never dated a guy before.” 

“Girls have butts too, Bro.” You say. The expression on his face flickers, before he smirks ever so slightly.

“Huh. I did not know that.” 

“You learn something new every day!” He laughs.

The two of you make an actual effort to wash, then Dirk starts complaining about ‘stewing in our own filth’, so you get out, and towel yourselves off. You’re excited, anticipating what’s coming next and bouncing a little on your heels. You kiss him, not bothering to wrap a towel around your waist, eager and conscious of how puppyish you must seem.  
He laughs gently into your mouth, and his hands slip down your back, rough on your skin. You stumble through to the living room, attached at the lips, having to perform some relatively fancy footwork to avoid all the crap on the floor. You trip backward and land ass first on the futon, and it hurts more than you expected. Dirk laughs at you, and you kick his ankle, catching him off guard and sending him toppling down onto you. He knocks the wind out you, and both end up giggling, tangling your libs together. Dirk’s laugh is wheezy, and dry, clicking in your ear like a cricket.  
You kiss him again, and his hands rove over your chest and your stomach, softer than his but he doesn’t seem to mind, and he pulls away to suck on your neck and nibble your collarbone in a way that makes you squeak and wriggle beneath him. 

“You’re making me do all the work here, kid.” He mumbles. You suppose he’s right, and you sit up, putting him on his back. He seems glad to be relinquishing the reins, and sighs comfortably when you litter kisses across his neck, his chest, and his stomach. You pause, and rub his thighs, listening to his breathing speed up as you lean down, and work his dick with your mouth, till he’s hard. You suck his hip bone, bruising it, and he reaches over and runs a hand through your hair. You look up at him – he’s flushed and his eyes are heavy and dark.

“Where does the lube live?” You ask – wishing you sounded less like a fucking grade school teacher when you had.

“In my sylladex.” He says. You groan.

“Is there any in any place there’s lube where you don’t have to piss around rhyming for ten minute?” You whine. Dirk gives a small impatient frown, then nods to the apartment’s narrow hallway. 

“There might be some in Dave’s room.”

“Will there be condoms there?” You ask. He narrows his eyes, in what you would like to think is the general direction of Italy.

“I fucking hope so.” He says. 

“Oh, actually, I have a box.” You say, and it rockets out of your sylladex the moment you mention it. They land by Dirk and he examines them, raising his eyebrow.

“Ribbed.” He comments. You wink.

“For her pleasure.” 

“Oh, always the gentleman Egbert. Now go find lube.” He says. You shuffle into Dave’s room, clasping your hand over your half hard dick when Casey glubs and regards you with a look of confusion.

“Casey, cover your eyes.” You say. She stares dumbly at you, and you cringe. Is this abuse? You suppose she’s not _really_ your baby, and she is a salamander. You shake your head and remind yourself of the task in hand. Dave’s room is a lot cleaner than the Bro inhabited areas of the apartment. You check the obvious place – his nightstand – and find a few bottles, three empties (with drinking straws?) and one that is as yet, unopened.  
You rip off the layer of plastic protecting the seal, then break it, half running back into the living room. You hope Casey’s innocence hasn’t been too sullied. 

“Got it. It was just in his top drawer.” You say. “And it’s cherry flavoured. There were like three empty ones with drinking straws in them.” You dive down onto the futon, grinning, while Dirk looks slightly mortified. 

“Why you gotta go out of your way to kill my boner.” He asks. 

“Sorry.” You tug his arm, so he falls next to you, “So how you want me to do this?”

“With your weiner.” He says. 

You laugh. “Seriously.”

“Uh. Face to face?” He suggests. You sit up, and shuffle to his legs on your knees, parting them with your hands. You unscrew the cap on the lube, while Dirk grabs a pillow and pops it under his back. You slick your fingers with cold, pink tinted gel (you’re actually a little tempted to taste it) then put the bottle within grabbing distance. Tentatively, you slip a finger between his cheek, and press gently at his hole. You look to him for approval, and he nods hurriedly.  
You’re nervous, just because you want to do it right, and you want to make him feel good. You work your finger in and out of him, and quickly add a second, he’s quiet, but his teeth are digging into his bottom lip, and his fingers are slowly tightening on the comforter beneath him.  
You scissor your fingers and he lets out an audible gasp, and you rub his thigh gently with your free hand. He works his hips along with you, pushing back onto your fingers and sighing, lightly with each movement. Briefly, you stretch him with a third finger and he grunts in protest.

“Just get on with it, Egbert.” He says. “M’not made of glass.” You swallow, and nod. He throws a condom at you, and you must twist your face, because he frowns at you. “I’m sure you’re clean, you just can’t be too careful.”

“Fair enough.” You say, and you roll the condom onto your cock, then slick yourself with the nearby lube. Dirk makes an impatient noise, and you position yourself between his legs, hoisting his ankles over your shoulders with ease. He looks faintly impressed. You take your cock, and position it at his hole, pushing forward slowly – both of you shudder as you push past the tight ring of muscle. Dirk groans contentedly beneath you, his back curling and arching lazy, and cat like. 

“ _God_.” He moans, and you respond wordlessly, snapping your hips forward roughly and making him groan louder this time. You grab his hips, and try to pump your hips shallowly, but with Dirk grinding back to meet your thrusts, it’s hard to be particularly careful. You give in, working your hips as hard and fast as you can, Dirk bending his back at an insane angle, his moaning becoming gradually higher and higher in pitch. You lean down, thanking God he’s so flexible, and grab his mouth, biting down roughly on his lip. He yelps, and grabs you, raking his nails down your back. He claws at your flesh, apparently suddenly self-conscious of his moaning as he scrunches his mouth up. You manage to slip your hand between the two of you, and grab his painfully hard cock, pumping at it as hard and fast as you can. He comes quickly, moaning loud and pilling himself over your hand and onto your stomachs..  
You follow him quickly, growling and spitting through your teeth as you do, and he’s muttering “come on, come on, come on, do it, do it, do it”, spurring you on. You collapse onto him, but roll off quickly. Dirk makes a slightly uncomfortable sounding noise when you pull out, and strip yourself of your condom, tying it and throwing it vaguely in the direction of the bin.  
You can pick it up later.

Meanwhile, Dirk has retrieved his cigarettes and his lighter from his sylladex, and before you can protest, he laughs and lights one up.  
“Happy birthday to me.” He chuckles. You crawl under the comforter, quickly wiping off your stomach and your hand before you make a mess of it.

“Well gosh, that was a confidence booster.”

“Ain’t gonna lie, you were pretty good, Egbert.” He’s grinning, and he wipes himself down, flicking ash on the bed. Thankfully, you’re past the point of caring. He kisses you and tastes gross, but it’s nice any way.

“I’m a stud.” You purr to yourself, Dirk ruffles your hair before climbing under the covers himself.

“Yeah sure you are, Johnny.” He says, sounding a tad snarky. You’re suddenly aware of how much your back stings, and you slap Dirk on the bicep, pouting.

“I think you shredded my back.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” He says, smirking. You lie there in silence while you stretch, and he stubs his cigarette out on a patch of grease in a nearby pizza box, and cuddles up next to you. His hair flops down into his eyes, and you want to tell him he looks so much cuter with his hair down, but he’d probably keep it up all the time just to spite you.

“Well Happy Birthday, Bro.” You say, smiling, and brushing his hair from his forehead.

“Thanks.” He mumbles, already half asleep as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

He drifts off, and you are suddenly overwhelmed with this nagging feeling – as if you’d forgotten something important.  
It hits you just as you’re about to drop off to sleep.

“Oh shit!” You cry. Dirk snorts and convulses, and looks at you with the kind of fury only achievable by someone who’s been woken up by a loud noise. Or Karkat.

“What the fuck?!”

“Jade, I forgot Jade!”

 

*

 

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] 

EB: hi jade!  
EB: happy birthday!  
EB: wow i think this is the first time i’ve seen you online in months!   
GG: oh yeah i guess huh??   
EB: it’s seems like forever, doesn’t it?  
EB: but yeah, happy birthday.  
EB: i didn’t get you anything, but i’m assuming I couldn’t send it to you even if I had?   
GG: no im in the middle of the mountainous regions of china :B  
EB: ooooooooh what for?   
GG: were making a documentary on rural villages, and were hoping were gonna get picked up by discovery!!!!   
EB: awesome!  
EB: what’s it like having a birthday in a small chinese village?   
GG: pretty fun actually!! this is a matriarchal village so when a woman has her birthday she picks he boy of her choice to serve her for a day  
GG: and let me tell you tong zhen-mei is serving me damn well >:B  
EB: oh gosh jade don’t scare him!!   
GG: im the birthday girl ill do what i want  
GG: so howve you been??  
GG: ive been keeping up with bro, he said youre having a good time at work and stuff  
GG: also that the two of you are passengers on the homotrain together :D  
EB: haha… yeah…  
EB: please don’t tell dave.   
GG: my lips are sealed!!! bro said not to tell dave either…..  
EB: i still think it’s kind of weird that you two are buddies.   
GG: of course were buddies hes a fucking sweetie pie!!   
EB: yeah he actually kind of is?   
GG: daaaawww <3  
GG: oh john i gotta go, tong zhen-mei is giving me a foot rub  
GG: mmmmm yeah i really gotta go…..  
EB: ew.  
EB: have fun with your supple chinese boy jade!  
EB: happy birthday!!   
GG: tell bro I say happy birthday to him and send him my love!!!!   
EB: will do! 

gardenGnostic [GG]  ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] 

gardenGnostic [GG]  began pestering ectoBiologist  [EB] 

GG: oh crap one more thing  
GG: im going to dads for christmas this year!!   
EB: aww, great! i can’t wait to see you!   
GG: yeah me either!! bye bye john! 

gardenGnostic [GG]  ceased pestering ectoBiologist  [EB] 

 

ectoBiologist [EB]  RIGHT NOW opened memo on board: sassy birthday friend/family well wishings!!

EB: is everyone online? 

turntechGodhead  [TG]  responded to memo:  
TG: everyone who matters  
TG: ie  
TG: me  
tipsyGnostalgic [TG2]  responded to memo:  
TG2: wow fuck you  
TG2: go to your room young man  
TG2: you fjukin assbaka  
TG: daddy mom called me an assbaka  
GustyTobacconist [GT] responded to memo:  
GT: ROXY, I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH, AND I SUPPORT YOU DECISIONS, BUT IT’S NOT NICE TO CALL OTHERS NAMES.  
GT: ALSO, WHAT’S AN ASSBAKA?  
TG2: u  
TG: ahahahaha hi5 mom  
TG2: *hi5s*  
TG2: *misses*  
TG2: *touches ur pretty face*  
TG: ew incest already that was fast  
TG2: stfu  
TG2: omfg why do i have to be TG2 i was here first  
TG2: not to this convo but in lide  
TG2: * life  
GT: AS CREATIVE AND WITTY AS YOUR CHUMHANDLES ARE, PERHAPS ONE OF YOU COULD CHANGE THEIRS?  
GT: I WILL RESPECT YOUR DECISIONS EITHER WAY.  
TG2: ahahaha honey that is a sweet idea but over my hot dead body  
EB: shut up guys!  
EB: where are jade, rose and bro  
EB: i mean seriously i’m sitting right next to you bro and you’re reading my screen, get your ass on the memo!!!!   
timaeusTestified [TT]  responded to memo:  
TT: Yo.  
TT: Oh sweet, I get to be TT.  
TT: Fuck you, Rose!   
TG: ahahahahah striders win again  
TT: Fuck yes.  
TT: How’ve you been, little man?   
EB: did you get the gift we sent you?   
tentacleTherapist [TT]  responded to memo:  
TT2: Hello, all.  
TT2: Jade signed off about an hour ago, it’s night time where she is.  
TT2: Why am I TT2?  
TT2: Oh, balls.   
TT: Yeah balls is right, bitch.   
TG: boom  
TG: but yeah im cool and no i didnt get your package  
TT: Spoilers, it’s another 1000 condoms.   
EB: and 35 bottles of cherry lube!   
TG2: omfg  
TG2: guys  
TG2: thats only going to last him like a week and a half though  
TT2: It’s funny because you’re a strumpet.   
TG: youre just jelly  
TT2: You’re just KY-Jelly.   
EB: rose and mom, did you get our packages?   
TT2: I got mine, but I’m saving it for my actual birthday.   
TG2: umm….. honey did we get that?   
GT: THE MAIL DOESN’T USUALLY ARRIVE FOR A FEW HOURS.  
GT: THAT IS JUST THE WAY OF THE US POSTAL SERVICE.  
GT: THEY DO AN EXCELLENT JOB.   
TG2: aww i hope it comes today  
TG2: what with it being MY ACTUAL BIRTHDAY TODAY an’all  
TT2: I already gave you an IRL happy birthday this morning.  
TT2: Complete with entirely sincere hug and gift, as well as a joke, passive aggressive gift.   
EB: aww what’d rose get you mom?   
TG2: a nice bottle of whisky because shes my sweet baby but also an apron because shes a lil witch who takes any chance she can to dig at me  
GT: HONEY, PLEASE.  
EB: shh dad, it’s just their way.   
TG2: um wow not hearing any birthday greetings  
EB: happy birthday mom!!   
TG: yeah happy birthday  
TG: whats it like being 43  
TG: you menopausal yet  
TG2: the baby factory is still in full working order  
TG2: whats it like to have crabs  
TG: itchy  
TT: Woah, woah, woah.  
TT: You got crabs  
TT: And you didn’t tell me?   
TG: dont get your panties in a bunch I only found out yesterday and i figured youd be too busy ass fucking egbert for 8 hours straight or whatever the fuck it is you did that meant you were offline all day  
EB: ahahaahh!!  
EB: us ass fucking all day!!  
EB: god, what a gross mental image!!   
TT: So gross.  
TT: Egbert is practically a son to me, Dave, you little perv.   
TT2: Yes Dave, your assumption is way off base. You sicken me. You are so wrong, I can’t even begin to articulate how incorrect you are.   
GT: I AM SO GLAD THAT THE TWO OF YOU ARE GETTING ALONG.  
GT: BRO, I AM HONOURED THAT YOU SHOULD CONSIDER JOHN YOUR SON.  
GT: ESPECIALLY WHEN I CONSIDER ROSE A DAUGHTER.  
GT: I AM SO PROUD OF ALL OF YOU.  
TG2: omfg you made him cry  
GT: JOHN, THANK YOU FOR MAKING ROXY FOR ME.  
GT: SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL.  
GT: AND I LOVE ALL OF YOU SO MUCH.  
TG2: baby put your phone down and come here  
gustyTobacconist [GT] ceased responding to memo  
TG2: were gonna go because daddys got himself all weepy and stuff  
TG2: also he owes me birthday luvin ;)   
EB: ew.   
TG: ew  
TT2: Ew.   
TT: Go get yourself some hot, Egbert ass, Momma.   
TG2: you know it baby *wonks*  
TG2: * *winks*  
TG2: okay so happy birthday to bro for yesterday and lil davey for tomorrow :3  
TG2: bubi!!!   
EB: bye mom! happy birthday again!   
TT2: We’re in the same house.   
TG: bye mommy ilu ur da best mommy in da hole wurl n i luv u   
TT: Enjoy your day, Rox.   
TG2: same 2 u  
TG2: for yesterday i mean  
TG2: w/e  
tipsyGnostalgic  [TG2]  ceased responding to memo.  
TT2: I suppose I’d better clear out of the house.  
TT2: I’ll sit on the step outside, while your father bones my mother.  
TT2: Tears running down his beaky nose.  
TT2: The squeaking of bed springs and “Baby You Can Leave Your Hat On” fills the air.   
TG: hot  
TT2: So…  
TT2: Crabs.   
TT: Yeah…  
TT: Crabs.   
EB: hehehehehehehehehehhehhehehehheheheheheehehehheh!!!!   
TT: Hahahahahahahahahahahhaahaahhhahah!   
TT2: Haha.   
TG: screw you guys  
TT: So who gave you that little gift, Dave?   
TG: im staying with the professor and his family  
TG: and the last person i fucked was his oldest daughter so  
TT: Nice.   
TG: ikr  
TT: Please go to a clinic.   
TG: i will okay im going later  
TG: happy bday for yesterday by the way  
TG: did my present get there  
TT: Nope.   
TG: shit  
TT2: Did mine?   
TT: Nope.   
TT2: Shit.   
TT: Hey it’ okay, you didn’t have to get me anything.  
TT: I’m kidding, obviously.  
TT: If I don’t get these gifts, I’m going to be so pissed.   
TT2: Worry not, Bro, you’ll get them, I’m sure.   
TG: mines gonna take a while though because of shipping  
TG: really cheap shipping  
TT: I’ll expect that next August, shall I?   
TG: yeah probably  
TG: same goes for you too rose  
TG: also happy birthday for tuesday you fat nasty trash  
TT2: How sweet.  
TT2: Happy birthday for tomorrow.   
TT: Yeah, Happy Birthday for Tuesday/tomorrow guys.   
EB: same here!!  
EB: i hope you both like your gifts :)   
TT2: Thank you all.  
TT2: I’m going to make a move actually, I’ve got to call my publisher.  
TT2: I finished my book on Friday.   
EB: Aaaah!! no way!!   
TG: congratz  
TT: Cool.  
TT2: Yes, very.   
TT2: Many happy returns to you all, I must be on my way. 

tentacleTherapist [TT2] ceased responding to memo.

TG: imma go too  
TG: i dont have anywhere to be youre just fake and gay  
TT: He says to the man who literally spoon fed his churlish ass for two years.  
TT: Happy Birthday for tomorrow.   
TG: thanks bro  
TT: Should we RP a fist bump?   
TG: okay  
TG: *bunp*   
TT: *Bump.*  
TT: Have a nice day, kiddo.   
TG: yeah same to you  
TT: Don’t fuck anyone else till you get your pubes deloused.   
TG: yeah yeah  
TG: thanks and stuff  
TG: oh and im sorry i cant get home for christmas i guess  
TT: Eh, you’ll be back next year. One Christmas won’t hurt.   
TG: to simulate the experience of a strider family xmas ill get the professor im staying with to kick down my door at 5am  
TG: hey dave santas on the roof!!!  
TG: then take me up to the roof to show me a tipped over sled  
TG: holy shit dave santa fell  
TT: You’re never going to let that go, are you?   
TG: i was 10  
TT: I tried to tell you like eight time Santa wasn’t real but you weren’t having any of it.   
TG: so you killed him off for me  
TG: really bro  
EB: hey, hey woah.  
EB: santa’s not real?   
TT: Dave, look what you’ve done.   
EB: i’m crying.   
TT: Dave you bastard.   
EB: dave why :(   
turntechGodhead [TG]  ceased responding to memo.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author only sort of condones recreational drug use.
> 
> Stay in school kids.

“Hey, Dirk?” You ask, tugging up your pyjama bottoms, pulling on a t-shirt and slipping into the futon with Dirk. The temperature has suddenly dropped over the last few days and you’ve taken to sleeping in proper pyjamas again; you were reliably informed when you asked if you could turn the heating that “there ain’t no heating in Texas”.

“What?” He asks, setting down his newspaper and looking at you over his reading shades. They’re not prescription or anything, they’re just his regular shades, but with those little-old-librarian-lady chains dangling off them. They’re not as funny as his opera shades, but they’re better than his 3D shades (which are rendered very unfunny by their practical use).

“Is being on the bottom… All as fun as you make it look?” You ask, delicately. Dirk folds his paper, and sets it aside, sighing thoughtfully.

“Well… It depends… I mean.” He shrugs. “I make it look fun because I like it. Not everyone does.”

“Do… People usually like it?” You ask, still careful. You start picking at a burnt line of stitching on the sleeve of your threadbare bed shirt. You can’t wear a shirt to bed unless it’s so worn it feels like you’re hardly wearing one.

“Again, it depends, man.” Says Dirk. Then he smirks, removing his reading shades, and setting them down with the paper. “Why, do you want to try it?” He asks, wry. You wriggle under his gaze, and blush like a teenager. 

“Uh… Well, I dunno. Yeah, I guess.” You say, sounding shy. He smiles, all cute and lopsided (as stupid as it sounds, you’re so glad he smiles for you. He hardly seems to smile for any one, but with you, he’s almost as smiley as you are, and you’re _really_ smiley) and rests a reassuring hand on your thigh.

“’Cause you don’t have to feel obliged to or anything. It’s not all about penetrative sex and stuff, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, I just. I figure it’s like bungee jumping. Like… Even though it’s kind of weird and a little scary to do, once you do it you might find it’s like the greatest thing ever.” You say. Dirk removes his cap, and licks his lips.

“Have you ever fingered yourself, or used toys or-”

“Woah! Uh, yikes, no!” You say, sticking your hands up defensively. Dirk rolls his eyes at you.

“Most people do.”

“Really?” 

“I dunno, probably.”

“I haven’t.”

“Yeah, well you’re a freak Egbert.” He chides. He leans toward you, pressing his naked shoulder against yours. “Do you want to try a little…”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

You grumble, and blush. “But we’re both in our pyjamas.” You say. You’re a little torn. On the one hand you’re ready for bedtime. On the other – sex. 

“… Yeah.” A filthy smile is working its way onto Dirk’s face, and that skank has to know it’s your kryptonite. If this was a cartoon, there’d be a little glitter on his teeth and a “bing” sound. 

“Ugh, Jesus. Fine.” You say. Dirk fists the air, and whips off the quilt, then your pyjama bottoms, then your boxers, “My legs are cold.” You complain.

“Shh, only fingers now.” He waggles them for effect, and lens over you to grab the lube that is now stationed permanently on the coffee table. He carefully slicks a finger and, instead of getting straight to it, he kisses around your thighs, and your cock first. He gets you hard, and sighing with pleasure, nibbling the inside of your thigh and very, very lightly brushes his fingers up and down your cock with his left hand.  
With his right hand, he circles your hole, and the feeling is foreign, you suppose, but not unwelcome, but is closer to tickling you than being pleasurable.  
He moves his mouth to your cock, and places fluttering, butterfly kisses to it as he presses the digit inside of you.

He pulls his mouth away, and rests his head on your thigh, seemingly so he can watch you, but you wish he hadn’t.  
Again, it’s not bad or anything, but it’s slightly uncomfortable, and when he wriggles his finger inside of you – pressing, seemingly searching – you wince. 

“That’s… weird.” You say. He looks curious.

“Good weird? Or bad weird?” He asks. You look at him. Look at him hand. Look at yourself, and take in the reality of the situation.

“Like you have a finger in my ass weird.” You tell him. And then you snort, and giggle, and soon you’re out and out laughing. Dirk groans, and pulls his finger out, and makes a show of wiping it off on your pyjamas.

“I fucking hate you.” He says. “At least five years I’ve been wanting get in that ass, and the second he gives me a chance, what does he do?”

“He laughs!” You answer. Dirk pouts, while you tug up your pyjamas, still giggling.

“I feel cheated.”

“Try again when I’m actually horny.”

“You have a boner!”

“Not anymore, I ruined it.”

*

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

TT: John?  
TT: I know you’re at work, but can you do me a favour?  
TT: I found this really weird… Mole on my you-know-whattsy.  
TT: My penis.  
TT: Will you check it out for me?  
EB: what?   
EB: when i get home?  
TT: No, right now.  
TT: I’m not kidding seriously, I’ll send you a picture.  
EB: please don’t do that, can’t it wait?  
EB: dirk?  
EB: you’d better not be taking a picture of your dick.  
EB: you’d better not be sending me a picture of your dick when i’m in a classroom full of children.  
EB: don’t you dare send me a picture of your dick mole.  
TT is sending you a picture! – johnjustlookatit.jpg  
EB: oh my fucking god.  
TT: Did you get it?  
EB: yes, i got it!  
TT: Are you looking?  
EB: bluuuuh hang on.  
EB: okay, i’m looking.  
EB: wow the camera on your phone is really good!  
TT: Thanks. It’s self-customised.   
EB: aww cool!  
TT: Shh, look at the mole.  
EB: okay, hold on.  
EB: …  
TT: What?  
EB: have you tried rubbing it off or anything?  
TT: No, I was too freaked out to touch it, why?  
EB: i think it’s chocolate.  
TT: What?  
EB: it looks like you’ve got a spot of melted chocolate on your peen.  
TT: Wait just a fucking minute.  
TT: Yeah, it was chocolate.  
EB: jesus fucking CHRIST DIRK.  
EB: HOW.  
EB: HOW COULD YOU EVEN MAKE THAT MISTAKE.  
TT: John, sweetie, I’m not going to lie or anything.  
TT: But I’m kind of high right now.  
EB: you do drugs?!  
TT: I do a little weed sometimes.  
TT: God, Mom, I’m sorry I’ve offended your delicate sensibilities.  
EB: i’m not “””offended””, god, i’m just a little surprised.  
TT: Because I haven’t done any in like forever.  
TT: My dealer’s been out of town, and she got back today.  
TT: And she was like “buddy I missed you, let me hook you up for free”.  
TT: And I was like, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!  
TT: Literally, that was the noise I made.  
TT: I have like one IRL friend, she is my dealer, she is her.  
EB: i’m your friend!  
TT: No you’re my COUGHCOUGHboyfrRIENDCOUGH.  
TT: If I’m ~allowed~ to call you that.  
EB: sdfghjkl yes you’re allowed okay.  
TT: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!  
TT: No but seriously, that is way cool.  
TT: But yeah no, you’re like my best friend, is that lame?  
TT: My friends in order of preference go: you, Roxy, Jade and Connie (SPOILERS: CONNIE IS MY DEALER’S NAME)  
TT: Actually you and Roxy are kind of tied.  
TT: I didn’t count Dave or Rose because they’re like my kids not my friends.  
TT: Why are all my friends women?  
EB: because you never leave your apartment and mostly women happen to stumble into your path?  
TT: Yeah.  
TT: And I tend to have sex with all my male friends and ruin it.  
TT: Stupid penis.  
TT: Actually being that I’ve also slept with Roxy and Connie (FUN FACT: literally the only two women I have slept with AS FAR AS I REMEMBER) I have had sex with all of my friends except Jade.  
TT: WOW.  
TT: Damn why does my penis only ruin my male friendships.  
TT: Stupid penis.  
TT: John if we break up can we still be friends, because I can’t go back to only having three friends.  
EB: yes dirk, we can still be friends.  
EB: you’re talking a lot.  
EB: and like actually talking, not just mumbling shit to yourself.  
EB: you’re saying things with value and i’m learning about you!  
TT: Sorry.  
EB: no i like it!  
TT: You know how Roxy is always sassy because she’s perma-tipsy.  
TT: Maybe her sober is like me sober.  
TT: Like.  
TT: I dunno actually I’m still pretty sassy.  
EB: you know, mom’s cut down on her drinking A LOT since she got married to dad.  
TT: Seriously?  
EB: yeah.  
EB: shes not even drunk in the mornings or afternoons at all anymore!  
TT: So that’s… Just her personality?  
EB: um... yeah.  
TT: Holy fucking shit.  
TT: Shit.  
TT: Fuck.  
EB: i know i was as shocked as you were.  
TT: Wow.  
TT: So.  
TT: I can’t remember what I was talking about.  
TT: But when you get home, do you want to get high and make out a little?  
EB: is your dealer still there?  
TT: No she left hours ago.  
TT: She’s a free spirit.   
TT: She just threw the weed at me and left.  
TT: She was like  
TT: You know what Bro, I have all this shit spare just take this whole bunch of it.  
TT: I think you’re a good man and you deserve this.  
TT: Lil Cal is adorable and puppets are great  
EB: you made her up, didn’t you.  
TT: Yeah.  
TT: I actually just bought this from some high school student because the net was down and I was bored.  
TT: I only have three friends.  
TT: John if we break up can we still be friends, because I can’t go back to only having two friends.  
EB: oh my fucking god, i can’t figure out if this is pathetic or precious.  
TT: Precious.  
TT: Like a china doll or something.  
EB: dirk the kids are finished their activity, I need to go teach again.  
TT: Okay.  
TT: Thank you for looking at my penis.   
EB: that’s okay.  
TT: I think you’re great.  
EB: same.  
TT: I have so many feelings about you.  
TT: Like.  
TT: Woah.   
TT: I am going to go.  
TT: Goodbye.  
EB: bye dirk :)  
EB: don’t do anything dumb.  
TT: tfyguihjokl[;okay bye bye

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TT: <3  
TT: gfh;erhooeth;gohi;YU3RGFLUE  
TT: I’M A GROWN MAN.

*  
You open the door of the apartment very, _very_ tentatively. It smells like… well, weed, and Dirk is nowhere to be seen. His clothes are discarded about the living room, in a way that makes you very nervous. There seems to be a thin haze fogging the air, and the curtains had been pulled. There are no lights on, barring a dull red glow from a lava lamp you’ve never seen before.

“Dirk?” You call, nervously. “Are you… Sober yet?” You ask. Dirk’s head pops up from over the back of the couch.  
He… doesn’t appear to be wearing any clothes. Not even a hat.

“No, this is like all I’ve done all day.” He says. Then he slowly disappears back onto the couch. “One thing you need to know about me John, is that I get bored easily. And when I get bored, I do dumb shit on the principal that I think it might be kind of funny.” He tells you. You shed your bag, shoes, coat and jacket, and tentatively approach the couch. Dirk has curled himself into the foetal position, and stares wildly forward, barely noticing that you’ve sat on the floor, right in his right in his eye line. “And like… You know when you smoke too much… and you feel like you’re existing on another plain.” He blinks. “It’s like… fuck. I’m half asleep. But I’ve never been more awake.” He make a weak hand gesture. You lean toward him carefully, checking out his eyes (which are pink, and mostly pupil.)

“How much have you smoked?” You ask. He shrugs.

“I don’t know.” He says. “Why did I do this, I think I was trying to show off like… John. John I smoked a whole bag of weed and I’m like fine, but the truth is I have smoked some of a bag of weed and I am fucking pathetic.” He says, miserably. 

“Aww Dirk, don’t be upset!” You try. He reaches out and covers your mouth with his hand.

“You shut your filthy whore mouth.” He mumbles. The hand on your mouth goes limp, and falls into what appears to be a small pile of cigarettes on the floor.  
Except he’s been smoking weed all day, so those are obviously joints, not cigarettes. God, you are so _lame!_

“Maybe you should give the weed a rest.” You tell him.

“Maybe you should join me.” He waves the joint at you, and you gently slap his wrist.

“Dirk your eyes are pink and with your hair all fucked up like that, you look like a white bunny.”

“Wow, racist.”

“Shut up. And get a glass of water or something.” You tell him. Dirk shakes his head. 

“I’m afraid if I put anything inside me I’ll throw it up.” He says. Then he sits up, and half rolls, half falls onto the floor beside you. “I could totally keep some dick down right now.”

“We’re not having sex while you’re high as a kite!”

“Join me.” He says, throwing the joint at you.

“No.”

“Come on.” He whines.

“No!” You snap. Dirk reaches toward you with both hands, index fingers extended. He pokes you roughly and repeatedly.

“Peer pressure!” He says in a sing song voice, and when you try to move away from him, he follows.

“Stop poking me!” you squeak.

“You’re such a square, John. You’re as square as your glasses.”

“What a sick burn. Ow.”

“You’re as square as your Dad.”

“Hey. Woah.” You scowl. “No one is as square as my Dad.”

“You are. Your sides are all the same length and there are fucking four of them, yo. You’re a square, and I’m Penbrose tiling.”

“You just made a shape joke!”

“A shape joke that would be hilarious if you’d just have a couple of tokes. Then maybe we can make out a little.”

“I’m not getting high to make out with you.” You bury your face in your hands. “You’re a terrible person.”

“I know, I’m awful.” Dirk says. He rolls over to his underwear, picks it up, but doesn’t put it on. He does scratch his balls. You put your face in your hands again. “Did I ever tell you about the time Dave walked in on me smoking? He got sent home early from school when he was like 12, for fucking… I can’t remember but it was some funny shit. Anyway, I was like… Hey little Bro. Why don’t you come here and smoke up with your big Bro? And he was like yeah, cool. And then he took like two tokes and threw up.” Dirk giggles like a little boy. “Hilarious.”

“Oh God, I remember him telling me now!” You say, snapping your fingers with the realisation. “I tried to get him to call CPS.”

“You little shit.”

“Oh shoosh.” You snort. “Dirk, maybe you should put some pants on.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Maybe you should put some…” Dirk rolls over to you, and snatches up the joint he threw. Then he rolls over to his underwear. At least you think he is.  
He isn’t. There’s a lighter about a foot away from them, and he’s snatched that up, and put the joint in his mouth. Threateningly, he lights the tiny plastic instrument in his hand, and waves the flame near the tip of the joint. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’ll put on pants and I won’t touch anymore if you join me.” He says. “And maybe make out a little.” He lights the joint, inhales once, then thrusts it at you.

“Dirk this is pathetic.” You chide. He does nothing. Straight faced, he holds the lit joint in front of your face. “I’m not going to.” You say.  
Truth be told, you’re folding. You’ve learnt that most of the time, it’s just easier to give into him than to carry on arguing. Granted sometimes it’s way funnier to carry on arguing, but today, you are simply not in the mood.   
Tentatively, you take the joint from his hand.

“Okay fine. _Fine_. But we’re not going to make out even a little.”

*

“I feel funny.” You say.

Everything is sort of… fuzzy. But in a good way. Yeah. Not like you’ve lost your glasses and you’re just like ‘woah fuck everything is kind of fuzzy now’. No this is more like.  
It’s like reality is fuzzy.  
Or furry.  
Yeah, something like that.

“Yeah.” Says Dirk. He’s still not wearing clothes. Neither are you. You took those off. No sloppy makeouts though. Just clothesless chilling. Like Vikings in a sauna or some shit.

“I feel. I feel pretty great.” You tell him. “This is great. Dirk, you’re great.”

“I know. We’re both great.”

“We’re so great.”

He rolls onto his side, and earnestly takes your hand. “And we’re great _together_.”

“We’re like. You know when in the power rangers, they combine their robots to make a fucking awesome giant robot.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re that awesome giant robot. That’s us. That’s our boyfriendship.”

“Yeah.” Dirk sighs. “Boyfriend.” He says. His hands drift thoughtfully to his face. “I’ve totally never had one of those before.” He says. You shrug. And it’s hard to shrug when you’re lying on the floor, kind of.  
Like harder than usual.  
Whatever, point stands. You were shrugging.

“Me neither.” You say. “But I’m a mostly heterosexual man in his early 20s, what the fuck is your excuse?”

“I’m obnoxious.” He replies, and you nod in agreement. “They thought I was on the autistic spectrum for year. Did a bunch of tests. Turned out I’m just a dick.”

“That’s okay, Dirk. I’m kind of obnoxious too.”

“You’re more tactless than obnoxious.”

“That being said, we’re still great.”

“We are, we’re so great.” Dirk says. You agree again, quietly. There is a faint humming from… somewhere. And you’re concerned that it’s like… a smuppets or something, till you recognise it Dir freaks out, though. “The fuck is that?” he asks, sitting bolt upright. 

“My cell phone.” You say, and you crawl over to your bag, hearing a thud behind you as Dirk drops back onto the floor. You answer your phone without checking who’s calling.  
“Hellooooooo?” 

“Son?”

A voice inside your head lets out a miserable whine. “Oh. Hi Dad.” Dirk whoops a laugh behind you. “How are you?”

“I’m wonderful, I just wanted to check if you were definitely coming for Christmas. Of course, if you choose not to, I will respect your decision.” Says Dad. He sounds cheerful, yet like. Firm. Firmly cheerful. Manly cheer.

“Nah, nah, I’m definitely still coming. So’s Dirk. If that’s okay.” You tell him. Dad pauses for a moment.

“Who’s Dirk?”

“Dirk? Dirk Strider? Man I’ve been living with since August? Mom’s best friend and baby daddy?”

“… Bro?” This is one of the few times you’ve heard your Dad sound completely shocked. You giggle down the phone at him.

“Duh!”

“His name’s not Bro?”

“Obviously not.” You laugh even louder. 

“I thought it was short for something… Bro… Derik. Broderick.”

“Yeah, you’d be surprised how often people make that mistake.” You mumble. Before you can get up and run, Dirk comes u from behind you, and tackles you. 

Your Dad is too busy saying “Well you learn something new every day, don’t you!” to acknowledge the odd “hurk!” sound you make, where you are too busy watching the walls fucking spin and shit to fight Bro off. He sort of missed you and mostly he’s just grabbing your waist and lying on top of you. You have no idea what he is trying to achiever.  
“Son?”

“Still here, sorry! Uh.. So it’s cool if Bro comes for Christmas?” 

“Of course, Bro is always a welcome in our home!” Dad says, perhaps slightly affronted that you felt you even had to ask him! And then perhaps glad that you were polite enough to ask him. Your Dad is fucking weird, man.   
“Though I’m afraid I’m not sure where he’ll sleep!” He fusses. “Jade is sleeping on the cot in the study, and we got rid of the fold out couch.”

“Hey, I’ve got a double bed. We can share. I’m totally used to him being all up in my business 900% of the time, anyway.” You say. Bro nips your hip cheerfully. And pillows his face on your stomach, playing with the hair on your thighs.

“What a wonderful, unselfish man you are, son.”

“Thanks Dad.” 

“I’m so proud of the person you’ve become.”

“Dad!” You snap. Dad chuckles lightly.

“I’m sorry. Son, I’m going to go. But just let it be known. You are the best son a man could ask for, and nothing would ever change that.”

“Okay?” You say. Dad makes… a noise? Like… Some kind of… Sad cat shit or something. “Dad is something up because you’re totally weirding me out.”

“Everything’s fine! Better than fine! Goodbye, John!” He says very quickly.

You barely get in your “Bye Dad!” before he hangs up. It fucking screams of some kind of total bullshit to you.  
Before you can continue your train of thought, Bro throws you off.

“Christmas at the Egberts. More like fucking… Christmas up a poorly knitted sweater’s butt.”

You kick him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA CHRIST THANK YOU FOR ALL THE EVERYTHING JESUS this is insane you're all great, without you I'm nothing etc <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pchooos off into the sun. THANK YOU FOR READING AND COMMENTING AS ALWAYS, YOU ARE THE FLAME TO MY PORN CANDLE.
> 
> Chapter rated M for mush.

So you try the whole… fingers up the butt thing again. You try it several agains. And once you get past the fact that it’s really fucking funny, it actually starts to feel really fucking good.  
Like…

Okay, so you totally knew the prostate was a thing. And you knew it was a thing that could feel good and stuff, and yada yada yada, but mostly it was just something you had to get checked for cancer.

Turns out, you just didn’t know about the prostate. You had no concept of the wonders of the prostate.

Honestly, it’s like a light has been turned on. Everything is illuminated. People who refer to the ass as “where the sun don’t shine” clearly need to educate themselves on the magic of the prostate gland.

And this is mostly why you find yourself face down in the pillows, the night before you’re due to go home for Christmas, with at least three of Dirk’s fingers in your ass, and your ability to speak coherently gone away with the Christmas fairies.

It has always been clear to you that Dirk’s talents lie in his hands, but you really hadn’t been taking enough advantage of those deft, nimble fingers of his until recently.

So maybe when you started trying it like a whole two weeks ago, it was really funny, but all it took was like ten minutes of perseverance for him to have you riding his fingers like… you were a regular partaker in… Butt… Stuff.  
You hear yourself groan, roughly and you hardly believe the sound is coming out of your own mouth. Your entire world has dissolved into pleasure and the pillow beneath your head.

“Do it.” You splutter. “Seriously.” And you’re fairly sure Dirk just fucking _punched the air_ behind you. He takes a handful of ass and squeezes (you really had not realised until recently just how much of an ass man dirk was) before he withdraws his fingers, and you gasp. You feel uncomfortable without something there – too loose and too stretched. But before you have much time to contemplate it, you feel the blunt head of Dirk’s cock pressing into you.

You grunt, and you grab the mattress, and bury your face in the pillow beneath you, biting down hard, and half screaming as he pushes all the way in.  
It’s not… bad. It’s kind of good, you guess, but the feeling is just so damn foreign that you’re not sure how to take it.  
Dirk’s hands run soothingly along your hips and your sides, and you’re fairly sure he’s trying to perform some kind of sexy shoosh pap, because he’s murmuring encouragement under his breath too and telling you how good you’re doing for him. 

You want to tell him it doesn’t hurt all that much. Truth be told it’s such a cocktail of feeling that all you can come up with is a choked rendition of the word “intense”.

“Yeah… Yeah, I know.” Dirk says.

Because he’s inside you. There is someone actually physically penetrating you, and that is honestly something you never thought you’d do. Because sure, you’ve experimented, but there’s a line with experimentation, and you’re so far beyond having crossed it now, you can’t even see it any more. And this is different to topping for you. This is closer, you feel closer to him. And when he lays down on top of your back, and presses a kiss to the back of your neck, you actually don’t think you’ve ever felt closer to another human being before, emotionally or physically.  
You trust him. You really trust him. And you like him _so_ much. In this moment, you could easily tell him that you love him and mean it like you’ve never meant anything else. 

But you don’t. You don’t want to ruin it. And you almost don’t have to, because just as you think it he stretches to wrap his arms around your waist, and hoists you onto his lap. You stay, limp, eyes tight shut while he noses the shell of your ear, and holds you close to him. You’re like a favourite rag doll he won’t let go of.

“You wanna stop?” he asks. 

You have to let out a long shuddering breath before you answer, “No.” You try to relax your face. You want to look at him, but then you don’t.  
You know you’d just see all this love in his eyes, and that frightens you. It’s like you’ve been teetering on the edge of this canyon for months, and you’ve just been shoved.  
“It’s just… Intense.” You say. “Really intense.” He wipes your cheek, and you realise you must have fucking… You literally cried a single tear. You got yourself so worked up you cried a single fucking tear in the middle of sex, and oh my god if you had any of the will to do it, you would just smack yourself on the face like twenty fucking times. If you had a keyboard, you would smash it, is how you feel, Jesus fucking Christ.

Dirk moves his hands (hot and rough) to your waist, where he lifts you, and lowers you. And you squeak when he does it. 

“That okay?” he asks. 

“You’re okay.” You tell him. And he does it again.

God this is lame. You’re so fucking lame. Look at you, with your single golden tear, and your falling into a canyon simile. You suck. 

Dirk groans loudly in your ear and you’re snapped back into the moment – the actual physical pleasure of it instead of just the emotional hooha. He kisses your neck wetly, and grabs your cock, gone half mast, and works it deftly, still moving you with his other arm. You help him out, use your legs, move yourself, shift and bend so you get the right angle. You cry out silently, and Dirk jerks you hard, and helps you move.

He bites down on your shoulder and comes, hard, with a sob. And you’re so glad he wore a condom because you have no idea how you’d deal with the feel of his cum inside of you.

You collapse back onto his lap, and with what you imagine is the last of his energy, he finishes you off, and you come, practically screaming, into his hand. 

He lies you down, deals with the condom and the mess on his hand, while you fiddle around with the bed covers and crawl beneath them, feeling all weird. Too empty physically, and far too full emotionally.  
It’s almost a shame you can’t jizz out your feelings, because that is something you could totally go for right now.

Dirk collapses next to you, and wraps his arms around you. No teasing. No talking. You feel stupid. And really vulnerable. And you wish he would just laugh at you, and make it normal, but he doesn’t. He smells your hair, and rubs a circle on your hip with the rough pads of his fingers.  
You think this is the first time you’ve ever fallen asleep right after sex

*

Dirk clearly senses the fact you’re awake, and when he gets back from his morning piss (the man has a bladder like fucking clockwork) he lies on his back next to you and sighs.

“I can’t fucking _believe_ you cried.” He says. Okay, maybe you don’t like normal. Maybe you preferred it when he wasn’t laughing at you.

“Fuck off.” You grunt, sticking your head under your pillow. Dirk snickers.

“I was just like, wow gonna have me a hot fuck. But there you were. Crying. Like a virgin. Touched for the very first time.”

“I was a virgin!” You remind him, snapping. Then you correct yourself. “Half a virgin.”

“Were you crying for your lost innocence?”

“Yeah Dirk, I was saving myself for marriage and you came in with your hot middle-aged cock, and my morals flew out the window. The tear was because I thought about how disappointed my Dad would be if he found out he would only be able to get half the dowry he would have if I’d kept my legs closed.” You sneer, right into the mattress. Dirk obviously doesn’t hear you, and just chuckles to himself again.

“I just. I just can’t believe you cried.”

You emerge from under your pillow, scowling. “I didn’t cry, it was one fucking tear and I was really overwhelmed.” Dirk smiles that stupid pretty smiling of his, and you’ve half a mind to smack it right off his mouth.

“I’m so good in bed, I make virgins weep tears of pleasure.”

“I hate you.”

“I know, I’d hate me too, but still. Holy shit.”

“If you ever tell anyone, I swear to God, I will burn Lil Cal.”

“And then you’d cry over the bonfire because it was so intense?”

“Aw fuck you man.” You snap. “I gotta take a piss.” You get, rather huffily, onto your feet and-

Ouch.

_Ouch!_

Okay. It feels like you’ve pulled all the muscles in your thighs, but let’s face it, mostly your ass. It feels like you’ve strained your ass muscle. You hiss, and adopt a shuffle in place of your usual walk.

“You feeling the burn there, buddy?” Asks Dirk, sweetly.

At first you flip him, off, but then you soften. “Yes.” You tell him. He tuts. 

“You’re gonna have to learn to take your dick better, man.”

“Well, there’s always a next time.” You say lightly. Dirk smiles. He looks surprised, but he smiles. “I mean. Aside from. Me. Uh.” You clear your throat. “Well, I really liked it. It felt… really good.”

“Oh. Awesome!” He says brightly. 

You shuffle into the bathroom, piss, clean your teeth and pack up your toiletries, before shuffling back to the living room. Your flight isn’t till the afternoon, and thankfully you forced Dirk to get his shit packed before he jumped you, so you can pretty much just fuck around until one o’clock.

 

Upon your having re-entered the room, Dirk announces to you, “You know, I cried too. The first time I did it.” You don’t know why. Probably some half assed attempt to reach out to you.

“Really?” You say, climbing delicately back under the covers.

“Yeah, but it was more because he did me virtually dry than anything.” He says. You wince. “Yeah, exactly.” 

The rest of the morning went by fairly quickly, and by the time you got in the taxi to the airport, you’re so fucking buzzed about getting to see every one! You haven’t seen Jade since your 21st birthday, so you think you’re looking forward to seeing her the most, but you really miss your Dad and Rose, and even Mom too!

Dirk is kind of a pain in the ass at the airport. He throws a tantrum about going through the metal detector, and giving up his strife specibus and having to put his sylladex through the X-ray thingy, but you guess it’s forgivable once you find out he’s never flown before.

He whines and fidgets when you’re waiting for the plane to take off, and then clutches your hand for dear life when it does.  
But then, once you’re up in the air, he’s right back to fidgeting and whining.

“So how long is this stupid flight again?” He asks. You roll your eyes, altogether sick of his shenanigans. 

“Like, three hours?” You say. He pulls a face.

“Ugh. Oh man! That is so long!” There are few thing Dirk Strider shows emotion about, but apparently long trips are one of those things. He huffily kicks the back of someone’s seat, and you smack his thigh.

“No it isn’t, that’s like one Lord of the Rings movie if you don’t factor in any time for bathroom breaks.”

“Well when you put it like that,” Dirk begins, “It still sounds really fucking long! Lord of the Rings is like the longest fucking movie ever.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen!” You snap. 

“I’m grouchy, I don’t like keeping still!” He snaps bag, wriggling in his chair.

“All you do is sit around the apartment!”

“Fuck you, I am always pottering around, and am frequently on the roof, practicing with the ol’ Katana.” He says, then he clicks his tongue. “Also, them taking away our strife specibus. Fucking bull shit.”

“It’s for security reasons! I mean, any old terrorist could get on board and equip bomb-kind.”

“I guess. It’s still stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re stupid! And this system is whack.” Dirk grumbles, complete with tiny gangsta hand flick thingy. You snort.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll just call homeland security. Hey guys, Dirk Wiggedy-Wiggedy-Whack Gangsta Strider thinks y’all be trippin’ balls, yo!”

“I do not sound like that.” He huffs.

“You do a little, man.”

“Fuck you.” He pouts. Then he stays quiet for a while, and you even manage to get out your book (Better Teaching For Better Teachers) and read for like five whole minutes before he pipes up again.  
With a long suffering sigh, he elbows you, and whispers. “Can we go fuck in the bathroom? I’ve always wanted to do it in a plane. It’s like one of the only weird places I haven’t done it.”

“No.”

“But I’m so bored!”

“Read your book!”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Eat the sandwich I packed you!”

“But John. John I could be eating something else.” He waggles his eyebrows, and nods in the direction of the bathroom.

“I don’t want to have sex on an aeroplane.” You reply, still whispering. 

“But it’d make such a great story!”

You groan, realising he is not going to drop this. “How about you be quiet and read your book, and we’ll try and defile as many rooms in my house as we can?”

He beams. “Okay, that sounds pretty sweet.”

“Cool?” You narrow your eyes, suspicious. “I feel like we settled that far too easily.”

“Yeah. Well. I’m holding you to that shit.”

“I should have just let you suck my dick in the bathroom, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, probably.” He sighs. “Don’t cry about it or anything though.”

*

Dirk is stupendously quiet for the remainder of the journey, and sits as still as the kids in your class when you’re playing “Who Can Sit The Stillest” while you teach your lesson plan. It’s kind of beautiful. But you’re painfully aware of the fact that he is going to damn well hold you to your promise.

When you get off the plane and finish messing around in security, you step out of the gate to see your Dad, Rose and Mom all lined up to greet you.  
Suddenly forgetting that you are, a grown man with a sore ass, you run across the airport and throw yourself into your Dad’s arms.  
Apparently you missed him more than you realised. He grips you with all of his manly force, and it’s really a beautiful moment you’re going to cherish for the rest of your life.

Rose also gets a hug, one that’s almost as violent, and Mom gets a polite kiss on the cheek. Dirk smirks at you when you have to hobble to the car, regretting your previous outburst of movement.

“You limping a little there, son?” Dad asks. Rose mumbles ‘Oh my God’ Dirk snorts, and you flush.

“I slipped in the shower and hurt my leg.” You say.

It’s been snowing in Washington. It’s freezing cold, but it’s gorgeous considering you’ve barely seen a drop of _rain_ since August. You chatter on and on about how you’ve all got to go outside and make a snowman, and have a snowball fight and build a snow fort, while Dirk shivers next to you, complaining about the cold despite the fact it’s like a hundred degrees in the damn car.  
When Dad parks up in the street, you bound into the snow, despite your shitty Texas Winter jacket and inappropriate footwear. Rose follows you giggling, and when you invite the grown-ups to join you, Dad says he has to check his Christmas cake, Mom says she would, but like it’s fucking cold and shit and that’s bull, and Dirk doesn’t even answer. He trudges awkwardly through the snow like a cat with bags on its feet and slams the door shut behind him.  
While you watch him Rose shoves a handful of snow down your back, and you scream. In retaliation, you rip off her hat and scrub snow into her hair (which has almost grown out from its pixie cut, back to its familiar bob) not realising you’ve left your crotch wide open.  
You scream for a truce the second she threatens to shove snow into your undies.

You do push her, though. And she drags you down with her.

“I’ve missed you.” She says. Knock-out smiles clearly run in the Strider-Lalonde family, because when Rose beams at you her whole face lights up. Her nose is bright red, and so are her cheeks and her blonde hair (slightly green with the last dregs of blue hair dye) his matted and snowy. She looks so beautiful, and you love her so much, it breaks your heart when you remember you’re leaving next week.

“I forgot how stupid your face was.” You snigger.

“I love you too.” She tells you. You smile. “Enough with these silly emotional monkeyshines, before we go inside with hypothermia, may I just confirm that your,” she makes air quotes, “ _Slipped in the bath_ story is total bull shit.”

“Hey, you can assume what you want to assume, but a gentleman does not anal sex and tell.”

She twists her face, but half smiles. “I don’t know whether to be horrified, or rather proud of you.” Then she shivers, and clicks her tongue. “So, I’m to assume you and Bro are really… Serious? As it were.”

“We have sex, so we’re obviously super serious.” You mock. Rose rolls her eyes.

“Obviously not. But… Well, John, this is you we’re talking about. Even during your wild college days, you always said” She lowers her voice, into a crude, nasally impression of you, “I’d probably never do anal, no matter how homo I get. Definitely wouldn’t take it, Gosh that’s so scary.”

“I do not sound like that.”

“Yes you do.” She says, flatly. She gives you a pointed look, and all you do is smile, and shrug, trying to ignore the fact that you feel like you just shut yourself in the freezer. “Fess up to Auntie Rose, before she freezes her proverbial balls off.” Rose commands.

“Look. Okay.” You stand up, and brush the snow off yourself, and offer Rose your arm to hoist herself with. “Okay, this is going to sound so dumb, but we used the B word for the first time a few weeks ago.” She stands, slipping a little, and lands in your arms. She narrows her eyes. 

“… Bondage?” she tries.

“No! Boyfriends!”

“Ah.”

“And… Well.” You shrug. Rose lets go of you, and tries to de-snow herself. “I think I’m… You know.”

“Rather afraid I don’t.”

“I think I like. Love him. And stuff.”

“Really?” Her eyebrows rocket up behind her bangs. “Interesting.” She says. The two of you make your way slowly to the door. “So, are you going to tell Mom and Dad?” she asks. You make a noise that is something between a derisive snort and a horrified peep.

“Uh. No. God. No. Wow. No.”

“… Equally interesting.” Rose comments. “What about Dave?” She asks. You stop at the door, and talk in hushed voices.

“Oh. No. Wow. No. Christ. No.”

“So you’re just going to invite them to the wedding in five years time without giving them any warning?” She asks, sneering slightly. You feel yourself blush bright red. Gosh, she’s talking about you getting fucking _married_? Rose is such a crazy broad. Such a crazy, crazy broad. You don’t manage an answer. She grabs your arm and clicks her tongue at you.  
“Oh my God, let’s just go inside, we can talk about this later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAALALALHEU i forgot to mention i got this sweet ass fanart from Wimey, who did illustrations for chapter 2 (http://wimey.tumblr.com/post/20549305385/i-am-so-sorry-oh-my-jesus-christ-i-fotgot-to-link) and chapter 7 (http://wimey.tumblr.com/post/20537247922/i-figured-it-didnt-really-matter-because-youre) and scream becuase they're GREAT
> 
> also from Mira who did this also for chapter 6 (http://fabu-lass.tumblr.com/post/20259675065/because-elizas-beautiful-and-her-fic-is-beautiful)
> 
> sweet awesome yes thank you for these things go and look at them children and enjoy


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO THAT THING HAPPENED AGAIN WHEN THIS SUDDENLY GOT REALLY LOTS OF PEOPLE READING HOLY SHIT 
> 
> THANK YOU IN ADVANCE FOR ANY COMMENTS OR KUDOS YOU WISH TO BESTOW UPON ME, I AM NOT WORTHY. 
> 
> Please enjoy chapter 12. Chapter is rated Y for YULETIDE!!!

When you go upstairs to get your stuff unpacked, Dirk doesn’t do anything beyond dumping his suitcase, out of sylladex in to the middle of the room. Roxy managed to wrestle him out of his jacket and now, in his usual polo shirt and sweat pants, he sits shivering on your bed.  
And not in the good Shiver With Sexual Arousal kind of shivering.

“I’m so cold.” He says, just as you’re putting your undies away in their old drawer. You throw a balled up pair of boxers at him. 

“Oh shut up, it’s like 40 outside, that’s not even that bad.” You say. Though let’s be honest, you’re stretching the living fuck out of the truth there. There’s at least a foot of snow on the ground and after more than four months of Texas weather, you’re freezing your proverbial tits off.

“No fuck you, it is way colder than 40.” Says Dirk and his hand flies to his pocket.

“Don’t pull out your phone, you fucking lame-o.” But he ignores you and does, thrusting the screen which is currently displaying his obnoxiously cute Weather Pony app. The screen reads 31 degrees Fahrenheit.

“Fuck you.” He says. “See! It’s 30. That is fucking freezing. That is literally fucking freezing.” He’s practically snarling, you bat his hand away from your face and start putting your socks away.

“Don’t be such a baby!” You laugh. Dirk, meanwhile, toys with the boxers you threw at him. Those are actually a pair he really likes on you, so maybe it was a bad idea to throw your undies at him. Maybe you should have thrown socks. Thankfully, instead of doing something weird with them, he pings them at you, and complains about how cold he’s going to be at bedtime.  
“Do you want me to go get the space heater so it’s toasty when we go to bed?” 

“No, it’ll be too hot with the space heater.”

You groan. “Why don’t you just sleep with clothes on for once? You can borrow some PJs and a hoody from me.”

“I hate sleeping in clothes. Boxers. Boxers are fine, but… PJs? I’m not fucking 12. Or you.” He flops back on your bed, and bounces, weakly, in protest.

“Sleep in a hoody, at least. ‘Cause it’s way too cold to sleep naked man, I’m sorry.”

“Even if we cuddle?”

You smile. “Yes, even if we cuddle.” You shut up your drawer, and hop onto the edge of the bed. Your back is aching, and when you stretch Dirk’s arms loop around your waist, and pull you down next to him.

“Your hoodies are going to be too fucking small for me, though, ‘cause you’re fucking tiny.” He says. Then he kisses your hair, and you try to reach round and bat at his face.

“I’m 6 feet tall, Dirk, that is not tiny!” 

“That’s tiny to me.” 

“Fuck you, you’re like two inches taller than me.”

“Two and a half.” He corrects you. And when you try and wriggle away from him, he pulls you closer to his chest, abusing his superior physical strength. “And regardless of how tall you are, you’re a narrow fucker. I’m broad, and muscular, like a tiger.”

“I’m not even that skinny.” You mumble. He snorts. “Fuck you! I’ve filled out a lot!” You can feel his wheezy rattle of his chest on your back as he laughs. “Do I have to get my arms out, because I will get my arms out.” 

Dirk puts a hand on your forearm, then lets go of you. “Okay, no, you don’t have to get your stupid arms out. Go get me a hoody, we’ll see if I can wriggle into it without tearing it to shreds.” He snickers. Then he kicks you off your own bed. You huff, and roll over to the closet before standing, and sliding it open.

“You should be okay, you know. When I was really, really skinny I went through this phase of wearing like two big hoodies at a time to bulk me out a little.” You say, before revising it. “Well, partially. Mostly it was just because I was really cold, all the time.”

Dirk rolls onto his side, and frowns slightly. “I never remember you being that thin.”

“Seriously?” You start flicking through the hoodies in your closet, “Dude, after we finished the Game, I lost like… Twenty pounds or something. Which doesn’t really sound like a lot, but I was only like 130 anyway, and granted I wasn’t as tall but… Yeesh.” Honestly, you’re shocked he doesn’t remember. You looked really, really sick. “I guess you didn’t see me again till Dave’s 18th birthday. So, I’d started gaining weight again by then. But ages sixteen through seventeen, I was like… Gross skinny.” You say, wrinkling your nose at the memory.  
All four of you went a bit strange after the game finished. Jade isolated herself on her island for months, despite Dirk, your Dad and Rose’s mom offering for her to come stay at their respective homes. But at least she talked on pesterchum. You didn’t hear anything from Dave for months either, only gathering fourth hand information on him (Dirk would tell Mom how he was, Mom would tell Rose, Rose would tell you). And you remember that Rose seemed perfectly fine, till she and her Mom moved in with you and Dad. Then you found out that she’d been crying a lot – mostly at night. 

You… You just kind of stopped eating. You didn’t feel like it. You felt kind of nauseous all the time and the idea just didn’t appeal to you.

Of course you started again, obviously, but you were all having a really rough patch back there for a while. 

Dirk lets out a surprised puff of air. “It’s really difficult to imagine you without an ass.” He says. You smile.

“Dark times man, I was almost as bony as Dave.”

“No one is as bony as Dave.” Dirk says, shaking his head. You root through your hoodies, checking the size labels.

“He’s still got plenty of time to fill out. Maybe he’ll even be as big and strong as his daddy, one day.”

“Yeah I kind of doubt that.” Dirk grumbles. “I was never like… Most teenage boys go through that weird skinny stage, but I never did. Always had the body of a God. Always.” You can see him running his hands up and down his torso. You take a hoody marked XL off its hanger, and throw it to him.

“Try this, it’s like the biggest one I have.” You say. He sits up, and pulls it over his head. And it fits, and you’re not surprised, but apparently Dirk is. 

“Yeah, that’s a pretty decent fit, I guess.” He says. Then he pulls the neckline up over his nose and inhales, and you have no idea if you’re horrified or flattered. “Can I keep this?” He asks. 

“Wow, gay.”

“It’s soft and it smells like you.”

“Could literally not be gayer if you were trying.”

“I dunno man, I could write your butt a sonnet, that would be pretty gay.”

“Yeah. Yeah that would be way gayer.”

“I’m going to keep this on while we have dinner.”

You cringe a little. Dinner. Dad. Dad plus Dirk. “Can you… Be good during dinner.”

“I’m always good.” He says. You join him on your bed again. When you lie down, so does he.

“Because right now, Rose is the only one who knows.” You say. “I understand Mom is your best friend, but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell her. ‘Cause she’ll tell Dad, and I dunno if I’m ready for him to know yet?” You clear your throat, and Dirk picks up your hand and starts twiddling with your fingers. “I guess that sounds a little dumb, but it’s not because I think he’ll hate the idea or anything, he just might… Freak out a little.” You say. And honestly, your Dad doesn’t freak out gracefully. So rare are his freak outs, that when they come, they’re usually big. 

“It’s okay man, I have to say I’m kind of fearing the wrath of Daddy Egbert, and I wasn’t actually aware that fear was an emotion I had.” He says. Then he drops your hand onto your chest, and rolls so he’s looking at you.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly sure how he’s gonna take it. He was never really all that down with me dating older women, and he likes you, but he thinks you’re a perv, so…” You’re not all that sure Dirk is listening, because when you trail off, he kisses you lightly. You carry on talking. “I mean. I am an adult now, I guess, but did I ever tell you why I broke up with Marcy?”

“This was the first girlfriend.” You nod. “Who was thirty.”

“Yep. He called her a floozy and said he would call the cops.”

“Floozy?”

“This is my Dad though, so in his eyes, he was calling her like a jizz soaked paedophile with a bucket pussy.” You sigh. It was a dark day in Egbert history. “But yeah. He tried to call the cops, I had to threaten him with a hammer.” 

“Well she was thirteen years older than you.”

“You’re twenty years older than me.”

“Yeah but you’re a big boy now, then you were just a babby.” He pats your head.

You roll your eyes. It was barely five years ago, but you decide not to remind him of that. “I guess. But. Point stands. He’ll probably freak out.” 

“John, Bro, it’s time for dinner!” Calls Dad.

You sit bolt upright, and when Dirk doesn’t follow you, you pull him up by the neck of your hoodie. “Best behaviour.” You say, pointing an ominous finger in front of his nose. You see him go cross eyed behind his shades.

“Won’t it look incredibly suspicious if I behave?”

“Oh. Oh my God, you’re right.” You drag a hand over your face. “Okay. Um. Fuck. Let’s just… Wing it. We’re gonna have to just. Oh God.”

*

While you Rose and Dirk wait for Dad and Mom to come out with dinner, and Rose and Dirk talk about some dumb book or something, your mind wanders a little.  
It still kind of hurts when you sit, but… You really can’t stop thinking about having full-sex with Dirk. 

You feel like that’s kind of… Weird of you but… Gosh you really want to try it again. Soon. Maybe with you on top.  
Yeah, that would be sweet.

Maybe Dirk should go on top the next time you fuck him. You figure you’d really like that. 

You’re completely thrown off your train off thought when Dad bustles into the dining room carrying more plates than should be physically possible. So much so that Roxy has to help him move the serving dishes onto the table, while Dad dishes out the plates.

“I made Chinese food.” He says, as he takes his seat. “Because I know how much John likes his home cooked meals and how much Bro likes his… Awful takeout.” Dad looks at Bro with a twinkle of disdain in his eye. Or maybe you just imagined it. You are feeling a little paranoid. 

Boy, is it hot in here, or is it just you?  
… It’s just you.

Even your Dad is wearing a sweater, and molecules of cold air are usually boiled in the heat of his manly aura before they can permeate his skin.

You decide you really need to STOP THINKING and ladle a spoonful of sweet and sour chicken onto your plate. Sweet and sour chicken is your favourite.

Unfortunately, what you put in your mouth is possibly the least sour thing you’ve ever eaten. You struggle to swallow, and look to your father with suppressed rage.

You force a laugh. “Wow Dad, you went pretty heavy on the sweet in this sweet and sour sauce!” You say lightly. Truly, you have never been more enraged. How dare he spoil your favourite Chinese dish with his filthy sugar.  
God! Your dad is like _so totally annoying!_

“Well, the recipe called for just 4 spoonfuls of brown sugar, but it was just much too sour. So I added a few more.” Says your Dad. Your fist clenches around your fork, and you’re aware of the faintly horrified look Dirk is giving you. You shoot him a sharp smile.

“How many?” You ask.

“There are only about ten spoonfuls in there, really!” Says Dad. He shovels a fork full of the SWEET and sour chicken into his mouth. Then adds, “Well, maybe twelve.”

You take a deep breath. It’s _just_ chicken. It’s _just_ chicken. It’s _just_ chicken.

Rose elbows you, and whispers in your ear. “I made the black bean sauce for the other chicken, that should be fine.”

“Thanks Rose.” You mumble. You shovel a passive aggressive amount of the black bean chicken onto your plate. “So when’s your next book coming out?” You ask her. Rose smiles, privately, at you.

“It should be hitting the shelves for summer.”

“Sweet!” You say. And the chicken Rose made is spicy and salty and perfect and totally unsweet. Good Rose, best chef. “So do we find out who killed Calmasis?”

Rose quirks her eyebrows. “Perhaps. That is, if Calmasis is dead at all.”

“Oh, fucking plot twist!” Dirk cuts in. He’s still wearing your hoodie. And eating a lot of chicken. Jesus he better not stain it. “This chicken is good, Egbert, I dunno what the fuck John’s complaining about.”

“We don’t use foul language in this house, Bro.” Says your Dad, tartly. 

“I know man, but we’re all adults here. Even John swears like a sailor. Especially when I’m sucking his dick, I mean fuck, he barely ever shuts up then.” Dirk sniggers. You give him a pointed look. Rose gives you a very pointed look.  
You swallow. Then snort.

“You are so immature.” You sigh. He doesn’t smile at you, like he usually would.

“Aww am I in the doghouse now?” He asks. 

“Yes. Absolutely no penis for you tonight.” Your Dad looks bewildered and Mom looks, frankly, _very_ suspicious. You laugh, nervous.  
“See, look what I’ve become. This is why I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Dirk clicks his tongue. “Everything is my fault.” 

“Everything is your fault! The last time I brought a girl home, you know what he did?” You look to the table, grinning, and when Dirk asks:

“Do you know what I did?” Your face drops a little.

“Uh.” Come on Egbert, think fast. “… He kicked down the door, and tried to strife with the girl!”

Mom laughs her dirty, hoarse cackle, throwing her head back. “Seriously? Oh my God, you’re such a douche.”

“I had to check if she was worthy!”

“And was she?” Asks Dad. Rose drops her fork, and gives Dirk a slightly terrifying look, her eyes are blazing, and her nostrils are flared.

“Nope.” 

You cut in before Dirk can finish the story, and probably wreck its believability. “She hit him in the nuts with her baton and stormed out.” Dirk shrugs, and reached for a leg of chicken on the side of the black bean plate. Rose grabs his wrist.

She clears her throat and through clenched teeth she says, “Goodness, Bro, are you going to have that leg of chicken?”

“Yeah, I was gunna.” Bro mumbles.

“Really? Because that’s _my leg_.” You blink, bewildered. And as you do, there’s a bang from Dad’s end of the table. He’s bright red as he lurches away from the table.

“Oh, God, sweet heart I’m so sorry, with your mother sitting so close-” 

Mom yells over the top of him “ _Honey_.” And Dad shuts up. “Shoosh, you did have my leg.” Mom leans over to Dirk with her lip curled. “Whose fuckin’ leg were you trying to rub?”

Dirk throws his gloved hands up defensively. “I was trying to kick John, I didn’t realise I’d accidentally incested!”

Mom shakes her head. “Why does that always happen with this damn family?”

Dad puts his head in his hands. “Who would like a drink?”

“Momma would like a drink.”

“Well Momma can’t have one.” Dad says, standing. “Anyone else?”

“Woah, why can’t Roxy drink?” asks Dirk.

“Yeah, why not?” You ask. Mom make a face.

“Because of… Reasons!... Uh. I’m like. I’ve got like… A kidney infection?”

“Yes. And she can’t drink because of it.” Says Dad. 

“Huh.” You guess that’s settled. “Well, I’ll have a beer, if you’re offering.”

“You don’t drink beer.” Snorts Rose.

“He does now.” Dirk says, proudly. 

“Fuck, you’ve had quite the influence on little John, huh?”

“Yes, quite the influence.”

You laugh, nervously. “Bro, I don’t care how funny you think it is, we’re not pretending we’re screwing to get a rise out of Mom and Dad.”

“But it’s hilarious!”

“No!”

“Bad prankster.”

“You’re a bad prankster.”

The rest of the meal goes rather without a hitch, though Dad can’t seem to look Rose in the eye, and every time Mom decline a drink, you, Dirk and Rose exchange highly suspicious glances.

As you retire to the living room for movies and popcorn, Rose mumbles, “Well played, John.” Into your ear. 

*

You wake up a while before Dirk does, finding him with his head pillowed onto your shoulder, clinging to your waist for dear life. He’s frowning slightly in his sleep. You idly brush your fingers through his hair. He looks younger when he’s sleeping.  
Your Dad yells, and when you jump, he wakes with a start.

“Boys! We’re going to get Jade from the airport.” Call Dad. You groan.

“Why didn’t you freaking tell me like a freaking hour ago so I could freaking come!” You whine. You _always_ come get Jade from the airport, always!

“I yelled three times!” You Dad replies, sounding exasperated. “I believe she’s bringing Bec, so there won’t be enough room in the car any way.”

“Fine, whatever.” You mumble. You’re aware of the fact there’s no way he could have heard you.

“We’ll be a few hours, probably. There’s left over chicken in the fridge.” He says. And then there’s the sound of coats and shoes being put on, and the door slamming shut in the wind.  
Dirk rolls over and grabs your respective eyewear, dropping your glasses on your face while he puts on his shades.

“I am. So. Fucking. Cold.” He announces. 

“You’re a fucking pussy.” 

“I object to the use of the word pussy in that context, and fuck off, you’re a fucking cunt and I’m fucking freezing.” He scowls and shuffles back under the quilt. You ruffle his hair.

“Why don’t we go feed you some breakfast and see if it warms you up.”

It takes some dragging to get Dirk out of bed and he does insist on taking the quilt with him downstairs.  
The kitchen hasn’t changed much while you’ve been away, though there is a brand new toaster with like eight slots.  
While you deliberate over whether you want two slices of toast or three, Dirk cooks bacon and almost sets your quilt on fire three times in the process.  
You don’t let him make the eggs.

When you’re done eating, and Dirk has managed to shed your quilt, you ask him if he feels warmer. He replies with a noncommittal hand gesture. 

“I just feel kind of gross.” He says. “We should take a shower or something.”

You pout. “Aww, man! But I just showered last night and-” Dirk smirks, and raises his eyebrows. “Oh. Oh I get it! Cool, let’s go take us a fuckin’ shower!”

It’s cool because you’ve never showered with Dirk before! Because he only has one of those dumb little cubicle things, you can’t really fit two large, manly men such as yourselves inside. But the shower at your house is this big cool thingy that hangs over the middle of the bath tub, so you can both fit in there easily.

Today you learn that Dirk showers in his shades, and he learns that you shower with your glasses on. You find it makes things easier for you, he finds it bewildering. The man who showers with shades.

You’re not really sure how showering together is supposed to work. Because you do end up making out and stuff but you also end up just sort of watching Dirk wash his hair. You wash yours too while you’re in there, so there’s this brief period where you’re both like naked and visibly around but just ignoring each other because you’ve got important hair washing business to attend to.  
You guess making out with sudsy hair could probably lead to someone getting shampoo in their eye. 

Dirk climbs out of the shower before you have a chance to resume wet and soapy out-making and towels himself off a little before laying the towel on the floor.

“I thought we were going to do it in the shower.” You pout. He snorts.

“Not with your fucking balance, buddy.” You climb out of the shower and towel yourself off, while Dirk looks on hungrily. You’re not even sure why he’s looking at you like that. If you were Dirk and you were naked in a room with you, you’d look at yourself because really your body is nothing special but Dirk is just like…  
Gosh, you’ve never been particularly attracted to a male figure before, especially not one as _male_ as Dirk’s but Jesus Christ he’s just. You groan quietly to yourself and kind of launch yourself at him. He gives a muffled ‘oof’ when he hits his ass on the sink.

Dirk breaks your heated kiss to say, “Let’s check this off as the first room in our quest.” 

“Check. Massive check.”

“So” He breathes heavily into your ear, “What do you want to do?”

“Can…” You clear your throat. You’re not great at vocalising… you know… Dirty stuff. “I know I’ve barely regained my ability to walk, but can you… Fuck me? Again?” You ask. Dirk just looks like he’s struck gold.

“Hell yes. Hell fucking yes I can.” He claps enthusiastically and instructs you to drop the lube and the condoms out of your sylladex. You’ve both kind of agreed that the two of you need to get tested, and once you do, no more condoms.  
Even though you’ve been having unprotected oral sex.

To be honest, now you kind of just think the condom makes it more hygienic? But, whatever, you feel like it’s kind of pathetic that you’re a man in his twenties who is concerned by having hygienic sex.  
Stop thinking about hygiene, John.

“But. Uh. Can I go on top?” You ask. Dirk just grins, and lies down on the towel, looking really fucking pleased with himself. You blush a little. “I just. Kind of. I was thinking about it.” You tell him. He whips off his shades.  
You realise he’s lying with his head dangerously close to the door, and if anyone came in, he’d get a really nasty bang.  
But it’s not like anyone’s going to come in and give him and nasty bang while you’re in an empty house behind a locked door having a totally nasty bang.

Dirk tosses the lube to your feet and tells you to work yourself open, so he can watch. And you do it, even though it’s really kind of embarrassing. You just focus on the way he watches you, playing with his dick and gnawing his lip just a little. 

“How does that feel?” He asks, his voice thick. Yours crack a little as you reply. You’ve already got two fingers up there but you add a third and moan quietly. 

“Good. Really good. I mean, it hurts but I think I kind of like that,” You say, thickly. “Is that weird?” 

“No it’s just really hot.” Dirk mumbles. You smile, and give up, figuring you’re as prepared as you’re going to be. You climb onto his hips, and he settles his large hands upon your waist. “Gonna cry this time?” He asks. 

“Haha, fuck you. I’m going to un-cry so many tears man. So many tears.” You growl. You hope you sound sexy, not just pissed off? You lean down and bite his lips before grabbing his cock (which he’d speedily rolled the condom on to) and sort of… manoeuvring yourself? 

“You know what you’re doing up there buddy?” Dirk asks. You shrug.

“I’ve seen girls do it enough, how hard can it-“ You cut yourself off. As you manage to get yourself settled onto Dirk’s cock, you find you’ve kind of lowered yourself way too fucking quick. You squeak, and wince, and it takes a while before you can bring yourself to move again.  
But when you do… Damn is this a great fucking angle. You like that you can watch Dirk watching you, and he looks like he’s making a stellar attempt to bite his bottom lip off. 

You like that you can ride him slow. Because Dirk likes it fast, but you like to tease a little more, nd you milk each and every thrust for all its worth.  
You like that you can kind of but on a little show for him too – you know touching your chest and your nipples, guiding his hand to your cock, throwing your head back and moaning when you work yourself just onto the right spot. That’s not so much putting on a show as it is just enjoying yourself.  
Every time you do you choke out an “ _God._ ” and Dirk mumbles,

“That’s my name don’t wear it out.”

You figure you’re not going to last very long. In fact you swear you’re a couple more thrusts away from coming when you hear a clatter downstairs.

You stop, and the two of you exchange a glance.

“John, Bro we’re back!” Calls your fucking Dad jesus fucking christ what. “We just got lucky with the traffic!”

“Uh oh.” Says Dirk.

“John?” And that’s Jade. So bright and innocent. 

“Where the hell are you two?” Yells Mom.

You wince. “I’m in the bathroom, uh- Ah!” Dirk jerks his hips slightly, and you glare. “Bro w-en. Went to the store.” You say. Dirk just… thrusts up a little again, and you groan. “You’re doing that on purpose you fuck!” You hiss. 

“I swear I can’t fucking help it I was like two fucking seconds from finishing!” He replies. Meanwhile you can hear the thudding of like four pairs of feet on the stairs.

“Are you okay in there?” Asks Dad.

“Yeah, I’m f-fuck!” You say. You kind of lower yourself down by accident, and you clench with panic. Dirk’s eyes roll back in his head and he bites his fist. “I’m fine!” You squeak.

“You didn’t fall, did you son?”

“No!”

“Come now, there’s no shame in falling!” You Dad says, sounding very concerned. You let out a tiny sob. 

“Okay, I fell! I fucking fell, no big deal!”

“Do you need help?” Asks Dad. He sounds like he’s panicking. Now you’re panicking. Dirk just looks like he wants to fucking die.

“No! No, no, no, don’t you come in here Dad. Don’t you dare!” You snarl. Your Dad, of course, pays you no heed. 

“Ladies, avert your eyes, John has fallen and he requires my assistance.” He announces. “I’m going to break down the door!”

You hear the manly thud of his shoulder on the door. “No. Don’t do that Dad, Dad come on!” You whine. Dirk covers his eyes in preparation, and tries to angle his head as far away from the door as possible.

If there was a God, any God at all, then he would strike you down, right now, as an act of mercy. You just kind of sit (on Dirk’s cock) completely dumbfounded (on Dirk’s cock) wishing that something, anything could prevent what was about to happen (on Dirk’s cock.)

With a final thud, and a crack of the lock snapping off its screws, the door flies open and smacks Dirk just on the back of the head. 

Proudly, your father declares “I’m here!” before his smile falls, and reforms into an expression of sheer horror. You watch Mom’s jaw drop, Rose’s head fall into her hands, and Jade covering Bec’s eyeless face. You grab Dirk’s shades, and hold them over a chest in some futile attempt to cover your nipples.

“Christ.” Says Dad. 

Dirk clears his throat. “… Hello Jade.” He says.

“… Well.” Dad blinks, violently, and stares up at the ceiling. “I’m going to shut the door now.”  
And he does.

Dirk’s head hits the floor with a thud. He may be unconscious. That lucky bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been looking forward to writing that scene since February.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is rated Butts for extreme violence, Dad being an assmaster and christmas miracles.
> 
> Can't you just hear those sleigh bells jingling in the middle of May.

You shuffle into the living room with your tail between your legs. Literally. Like, you’ve ended up subconsciously tucking your dick up between your thighs just in case it springs free and embarrasses you again.  
This is what happens when you mistake yourself for a sexy person. You are not a sexy person. You are a person who has terrible things happen to them for no reason.

As you enter the room, Jade makes a face, Bec curiously tilts his head, and Rose makes a defiant hand gesture.   
You have a bone to pick with Rose. She knew. She knew you were together, and she had to have known with her stupid light powers that the two of you were in a compromising position.

“Before you even try to blame this on me,” She says. “I honestly thought Bro had just gone to the store.” Then she adds, “And I can’t turn my powers on and off like a switch anymore, so don’t try that line either.”

“I wasn’t gonna!” You snap. “God!”

“You so were.” Rose says, tartly. Who are you kidding, she’s got your fucking number. “Where’s Bro now?” She asks.

“Mom’s seeing to his head.” You tell her. You’d both stepped outside the bathroom, Dirk with a nasty lump on his head, and eyes that didn’t quite focus properly. Mom had been waiting for you, brandishing an ice pack and wearing the sort of expression that can only be summed up by the phrase “oMFGGggggggg” before she’d whisked Dirk down to the kitchen.

“Ah.” Said Rose. “Dad is smoking in the garden.”

You twist your face. “Seriously? But there’s like two feet of snow out there!”

Rose shrugs. “Well… He’s wearing his big coat.”

“Why can’t he just smoke in the house?”

“Mom said he has to smoke outside if he wants to smoke if she’s not allowed to drink.”

“God they’re we-!” Before you can finished your sentence, a remote hits your face. A decidedly pissy looking Jade stands and marches over to you.

“Gee Hi John, not like you haven’t seen me in two years or anything.” She snaps, before pulling you into an aggressive hug.

“Gosh Jade, I’m sorry, I’m just kind of distracted what with my Dad kicking down the door and seeing me with a boner and a dick in my ass.” You mumble into her hair - which smells like she hasn’t washed it in a while. She relaxes in your arms, and snorts.

“Specifically Bro’s dick in your ass.” She adds. “Rose, come get in on this!” She says, and soon you feel Rose’s arm wrap around you, as her other wraps around Jade.   
“Do I have to pay you for the show? Because I only have yuan right now.” She says.

“First time’s free, ladies.” You tell them. “Oh, and I’m sorry you had to see my boner.”

“I’ve seen your boner before.” Says Rose, flatly (Rose has a tendency to enter rooms without knocking, you have a tendency not to lock doors.)

“And I lived on a ship with you through puberty. Me and that boner are old friends.” Jade says.“Granted he’s gotten a little bigger since the last time I saw him.” Then she breaks the hug, probably specifically so you can see her waggle her eyebrows. “A lot bigger.”

“Yes, congratulations on that by the way.” Rose says. 

“Thanks.” And you’re blushing again. “… I’m gonna go talk to my Dad now.”

“Enjoy!” Say Jade and Rose in unison. As you leave the room, you hear them both cackle. Even Bec barks.  
This whole house is mocking you.

You decide to avoid Mom and Dirk, going out the front door and working your way round back, a decision which you immediately regret. Opening the back gate is certainly a lot easier when there’s not two feet of snow on the ground.  
Dad is sitting on the swing, staring, with a haunted look in his eye, down to the ground, a steady plume of smoke rising from the end of his pipe. 

You brush snow off the swing next to him, and sit down.

“Hey Dad.” You say. Dad nods.

“Hello, John.” He doesn’t look up from the floor. In fact, the floor sounds like a pretty awesome place to look right now. Let’s all look at the floor. 

“So. Just… Smoking your pipe, huh?” 

“Yup.” Dad clears his throat. So do you. Let’s all clear our throats.

“Hope you don’t mind me sitting with you.” You say. Dad shakes his head.

“But... Is it alright if I don’t make eye contact with you?” He asks. He’s probably wincing or something. Not that you know, you’re staring at the sweet, snowy floor.

“Sure! That’s very thoughtful of you.” You say. You don’t really want to look him in the face right now either.   
So you sit quietly, and Dad smokes. “Gosh, snow sure is pretty!” You exclaim. Dad mumbles something you don’t catch, and then turns to you. You assume, you’re still staring at the floor.

“Why didn’t you just tell me, John?” He asks. You feel a pang of guilt.

“Uh… It just… Never came up!” You shrug. Dad reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and knocks his hat off with the thick sleeve of his coat in the process.

“I wouldn’t have had an issue with it!” He says, his voice just a little squeaky.

“… Seriously?”

“Yes! What kind of monster do you think I am?” Oh gosh, he sounds hurt now. Oh no. “Haven’t I always said, I’ll love you no matter what. That extends to you sexuality!” He gives a frustrated groan. “All you had to say was Dad, I’m gay. And that would have been that over and done with!”

You smile, and snort. “I’m not gay, Dad!” You tell him. “I like girls. Still do. Always have done, Bro’s just-”

Dad cuts you off. “He’s taking advantage of your sexual confusion, isn’t he?”

“Uh… What?”

“He’s seen you, my poor, confused, vulnerable boy, and – and he’s waited, till the coast was clear! For him to pounce!” Dad drops his pipe and stumbled over to your swing, and wraps his arms around you, crushing your face against the cold fabric of his coat.

“No, you’ve got it-”

“Shh, John. It’s okay, he’ll be playing mind games with you. I’ve seen his mind games. But it’s okay. Daddy’s here.” He pets your hair. Why does your Dad have to be so... Himself. All the time. Just. Why can’t he just be like a normal Dad for once. Like, not kicking down a door because he thinks you’re injured and saving everyone a horribly awkward horrible awkward time.

“Dad you don’t understand.” You say. He lets go of you, then stoops to your level, where he grabs your face. You stare at him, he stares right back at you.

“John. I understand alright. We all go through our periods of confusion and experimentation-”

“Oh God.”

“And sometimes men will take advantage of you!”

“He’s not taking advantage of me!”

“Of course he is! The man is a… predator!” He scoffs. He paps your face, before letting go. “You know what, John? I’m going to go inside and give that man a piece of my mind!” And before you can even protest, he’s storming on inside, pipe and hat forgotten on the snowy ground.  
You rub a hand over your face before following him in. 

You try a weak cry of “Dad quit it!” but it goes ignored.

Dad bangs through the back door, into the kitchen and calls, “Strider?”. You’re a moment behind him, and before you can grab him, Dad has stomped over to Dirk and trying to slam the door in your face.

“Cuntballs.” Dirk mumbles. There’s an ice pack on his head. Mom mumbles ‘uh oh’ and sinks down in her chair.

Dad pokes Dirk in the shoulder. “So, think – uh, you think you can take advantage of my son, ey?”

“What?”

“You, you think you can take a poor, sexually confused boy like my John, and just. Uh, lead him up the garden path and hurt him. And stuff!” snarls Dad. Well, he’s definitely trying to snarl. Dirk stares at him for a moment, then looks over to you.

“John what is he talking about?”

“I don’t know, he’s an idiot.” You cover your eyes with your hands. Mom pipes in, gently:

“Sweetie, I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.”

But Dad shakes his head, defiantly. “No, no. I’m the only one with the right end of the stick.” Dad starts stripping off his coat angrily. Dirk clicks his tongue, his teeth gritted. Oh my, you don’t think you’ve seen Dirk _angry_ before. 

“You’re a fuckin’ moron.” He murmurs. Dad’s eyes bulge.

“How dare you, sir!” He squeaks. Dirk jumps with fright, clearly not expecting the jump in pitch and volume. Mom slides even further down in her chair. “How dare you come into my house, defile my son and then use foul language and...!” “Oh you know what Strider, you really just... Blow my leaves!”

Dirk then does something possibly worse than swearing again, or insulting him. Dirk mocks your Dad. He strips off his sunglasses, gives his prettiest gleamingest smile and winks.

“I’ll blow more than that, Egbert.” He says. “But it’ll cost you.”

Dad’s lips purse. They don’t just purse, they shrivel. By the time he’s done, they look like a cat’s anus. “Oh. Oh that’s it, that is it!” He snaps. “You, me, outside Strider!”

Dirk scoffs. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” Dad slams a fist on the table. Mom sighs, and picks up the crockery around him, before stationing herself next to you. “No. Right now. Outside. Me. You. Queensbury rules.” Dad yells. “You... Fff... flibbertigibbet.” 

Jade and Rose poke their heads around the door. You are too horrified to move. Too horrified to speak or intervene. Your name is John Egbert and this is the worst day of your life, the worst Christmas Eve Eve ever, and the most appalling thing your Dad has ever done to you. 

Dirk raises his eyebrows. “Wow. Did you just call me a flibbertigibbet?”

“Yes. Yes I darn well did.” Dad says manically. Dirk snorts a laugh, then stands up, abandoning his ice pack on the table. He’s got about four inches on your Dad, and probably about 40 pounds. You take a step forward, but Mom sticks her arm out in front of you.

“No. No, just let them tucker themselves out.” She whispers. Dirk is grinning too broadly, running a hand through his hair as he steadies himself on the kitchen counter. 

“Well then Egbert, I think that seals the deal. You and me, let’s go literal motherfucker. Let’s fucking go.”

“Alrighty then.” Dad casts a pained glance at the door. “Maybe not. Outside.”

“No, it is kind of cold.” Dirk says, nodding once with agreement. “Let’s go here!”

“Fine then!” Dad snaps. Then he drops his coat in the floor and oh my god he’s taking off his fucking shirt, he is taking off his fucking shirt.

“Please don’t take your shirt off.” You beg. “Dad, please.”

Dad, still staring at Dirk, snarls: “Don’t worry son, I’ll leave my vest on.”

“Oh, God.”

And then they’re off. The thing is, your Dad and Dirk, while both being capable fighters are... Well, Dirk is probably concussed and your Dad hasn’t done any kind of training in years. He’s a lot softer round the middle than he used to be, and when Dirk’s first weak blow lands in his stomach, his fist sinks and springs back out again. Dad lets out a listless ‘oof’ and responds by attempting to strike Dirk’s face. He barely clips his cheek, but Dirk staggers backward any way. 

“Is it just me, or is this like... a little hot?” Mom whispers. You give her a look, and she shrugs. Dirk then staggers forward, and shoves Dad, hard enough that he knocks against the opposite wall. He squawks “Ow!” then draws something from his specibus.  
Shaving cream.

“Hope you like temporary blindness, Strider!” He growls. 

“Okay, oh-fucking-kay, this has gone Goddamn far enough!” Says... Jade. That probably should have been you. But as she steps between them, Dad is still in attack mode, and while Dirk collapses back against the counter, clutching his head, Jade grabs your Dad’s wrist, bending it at painful angle. He yelps, and squeezes his finger down on a reflex, sending a jet of shaving cream flying directly into his own face.

He remains stoic, and Jade releases his wrist so he can wipe foam from his face. His eyes are brght red and streaming, and he looks just an inch away from screaming. It is at this point that Dirk _stamps on his fucking toe._

Then he does scream.

“Dirk, Jesus Christ!” You snap. Finally, you’ve summoned the strength to move. You stomp over to them, grab Dirk by the arm, and drag him to your side of the kitchen.

“He started it!”

“Dad!” You yell. And even bent over the sink with the tap running directly into his eyes, he responds.

“Yes son?”

“Me and Dirk are dating. We have been for like two months. Which you would know if you’d freaking listened to me, instead of freaking out!” oh no, you’re yelling at your Dad.

“You’re what?”

“Dating. Boyfriends. Lovers. Butt buddies, whatever the fuck you want to call it!” You yell. Mom gives a tiny round of applause and Dad just blinks. “Yeah! That’s right! And we’re so serious that if we weren’t trying to keep it a secret from Dave, we’d have changed our Facebook status thing to ‘in a relationship’.” You say. “I really... you know. Like him. And stuff.”

Dirk cuts in and clears his throat. “Yeah, I don’t want to go all _emotions_ on your ass, but John is like the best thing to happen to me in a long, long time.”

“But.” Dad says, eyes still streaming. “You don’t have feelings.”

“I know I’ve made a lot of effort over the years to make it seem that way.”

“But it’s not true at all!” You say.

“I have a lot of feelings.”

“He’s like a Radiohead song.”

“Raw and emotional.”

Dad sniffs. His lip wobbles slightly. “What’s a Radiohead?”

“It doesn’t matter. Point stands, me and Dirk are a real boyfriends thing. And if you have a problem with that then... Well. You suck.” You say. You even stamp your foot for effect.

“Oh.” Dad says sheepishly. “I don’t. I mean. I just. Panicked. And. Assumed.”

“Well I think someone owes the Bro an apology.” Says Dirk, smugly. Dad’s jaw drops with outrage.

“He stamped on my toe!”

Mom swans over to him, and places a comforting hand on his back. “And that was super lame, but Honey, you started it and you need to apologise for being a butt.”

“But. I’m not a butt, I just. He stamped on my toe!” Dad protests. Then he lurches away from Mom, and points at her, accusatory. “She’s pregnant!”

“What?” Says... Everyone. All at once. Like a bewildered choir. 

“Don’t try and avoid an apology by deflecting this onto to me, assmaster!” Mom snorts.

“She kept it from me for weeks and said we couldn’t tell anyone! What a witch, let’s all yell at Roxy instead!”

“Dad, we’re not yelling at you.” Says Jade.

“Yes you are.” Dad pouts. “Roxy wants to give up your baby brother or sister for adoption, what a cruel ice queen!”

“No I don’t.” 

Dad, clearly flustered, re-aims his finger at Dirk. “He stamped on my toe!”

“I just thought you were getting fat.” Says Rose, to her mother. Mom shrugs.

“I messed up my pill. I just figured I was too old any way, but here we freaking are.”

“Oh damn.” Dirk whistles. “So am I getting an apology, or...”

“No.” Huffs Dad.

“I think I’m owed an apology.”

“I think you’re a dirty toe stamper!”

“I think that...” Dirk begins his sentence, then tails off. He goes cross eyed, and stumbles forward. You reach out and grab his arm. “... Someone should probably drive me to the hospital.” He says.

“Anything to get me out of this house!” Sings Rose.

“Shotgun!” Calls Jade. Dirk groans.

*

All strapped in, on your way to the hospital, Rose shakes her head, and turns to look at Jade.

“I believe you owe me... Was it... fifty dollars?”

“Oh, screw you, Lalonde!” Groans Jade. “You’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming to the exchange bureau.”

“What were you betting on?” You ask. Your eyes are clamped to Dirk, who is groaning pathetically, head between his legs.

“I bet Jade Dad would find out. I also bet Jade that he would basically pee his pants when he did.” Says Rose, smugly.

Jade puts her feet up against the glove box, giving it a little kick first. “I clearly just have too much faith in your ability to keep secrets, and Dad’s stiff upper lip.”

“Nah. We suck and Dad is fucking crazy.” You tell her. Then you pat Dirk’s arm. “How you feeling, Dirk?”

“My head is killing, I have no idea what’s going on, and I can see flashing lights.” He mumbled, into his knees. Then, suddenly, he lifts his head. “I can see the baby Jesus.” He announces. “He’s a puppet.”

You sigh. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, we're hitting the Exam season in the UK and I'm sitting my A-levels this year which, for those of u not in da no IS KIND OF A BIG DEAL
> 
> so yeah since this fic last updated I've turned 18 and sat a 15 hour art exam so I'm the busy bee it is me


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL THAT'S MY A-LEVELS DONE, yay, I have my life back. Sorry about the long wait.
> 
> In this chapter we pass the 50k benchmark. 
> 
> For those of you interested, the 50,000th word is "Uh"

The doctor at the ER pretty much sent you and Dirk straight back home with diagnosis of a very slight concussion, hypochondria on Dirk’s part and with instructions to wake him up once or twice during the night, and to take some pain killers.

“That fucking doctor was a fuckin’ prick. Hypochondria my ass, I’m dying.”

Rose clicks her tongue, finally letting go of the steering wheel. You’d been jammed in traffic for a good fifteen minutes, and hadn’t budged. “Well Bro, she’s the one with the PHD not you, so if you want to march back in there and demand a CT scan till you know your brain isn’t definitely leaking out of your ears, be my guest.” She flicks a button, and the car unlocks. “But you’ll be walking.”

“Fine, I’ll be good.” Dirk huffs. There is a beat of silence, before Dirk changes the subject completely. “You know how Roxy is pregnant?”

You bite. “Yeah?”

Dirk seems to consider the wording of his question for a moment. “Is anyone else like really surprised that Dad has a penis?”

“Dirk!” You snap. He recoils from the hand you raise, with the intention of smacking him on the arm.

“What?!” He squeaks. “I just figured he was kind of smooth, like a doll or something.”

“I could have told you he wasn’t.” Rose shudders. “My room is next to their’s.” She shakes her head, you’re tempted to stick your fingers in your ears. “I’ll never hear Tom Jones again without flinching. Without the sound of creaking bedsprings filling my ears.”

Jade elbows her from the passenger’s seat with a grin. “At least you don’t really have to hear it for much longer!”

“That’s true, I suppose.” Says Rose, smiling at her.

“Wait, what does that mean?” You ask.

“Oh. Well, what with my publisher and editor being based in New York, it just seemed a lot easier to move out there.” Rose shrugs. “I haven’t quite had the courage to tell Mom and Dad yet.”

Dirk snorts. “You’re twenty four, Rose, they’ll probably be glad to see the back of you.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me. But my Mother has been very emotional of late – for now obvious reasons – and I just...” Rose shakes her head, and sinks slightly in her chair. “I didn’t want to deal with the crying, it’s just so... Ugh.” She mumbles. Dirk laughs.

“Sometimes it’s terrifying how similar you and Dave are.” He chuckles. Something which both Rose and Jade seem taken aback by. “God I miss that little assbutt.” He adds, wistfully.

“We all miss that little assbutt, Bro.” Says Jade. She sounds a little sad, actually. Rose yawns, and leans to face Jade.

“Tell you what, this year, for Christmas, instead of giving you all a thoughtful gift, I’ll simulate Christmas with Dave.” She says. Jade laughs. “I’ll cut my hair short again, put on some boy’s clothes and sit in the corner and whine about how embarrassing everyone is while secretly desperately wanting to join in the family festivities.” 

“That’s exactly what you used to do, you used to just sit in the corner with him!” Jade giggles.

“True as that may be, at least I grew out of it.”

“Yeah, like two years ago.” Sneers Bro.

Rose pouts. “We’re laughing at Dave, not me!”

Your phone buzzes a few times in the car, and it’s not till you’re almost home that you actually check your texts.

GG: bro is so cheerful nowadays!!  
GG: i dont think ive ever seen him so happy :o  
GG: i dont want to embarrass you in front of him and rose but youre so good for each other :D  
GG: hes been sooo lonely over the last few years and he hasnt let on much but YOU COULD SOOO TELL  
GG: any way i think youre exactly what the doctor ordered :) <3

*

You find the house empty when you return, save for a note:

TAKEN BEC OUT FOR A WALK.  
IF YOU’RE READING THIS NOTE, IT MEANS YOU WERE CONCERNED ABOUT MY WHERABOUTS. YOU ARE A CARING YOUNG MAN, AND I AM VERY PROUD OF YOU. DESPITE ANY SILLINESS THAT MAY HAVE MADE YOU NOT THINK THAT. 

\- DAD

Which you fold up, and stick in your wallet before anyone else sees.

You’re a sentimental fucker, sometimes. Especially at Christmas.

With Rose having inadvertently assumed Dave’s usual role of “the butt monkey”, you spend most of the following day mocking her, and her mannerisms. It’s just not quite the same as laughing at Dave, though. Rose seems to deal with it a lot better, and it’s just not as funny.

A little before dinner time (Mom, Dad and Bec still absent) Dave sends Bro a few messages on pesterchum, saying he’s going to be on Skype. So, like any respectable modern family, you gather around the warm glow of the laptop and wait for Dave to pop up. Which he does, very quicly.  
He invites you all to video chat, and he’s on your screen in a few seconds, in a dark room, wearing an appropriate santa hat.

“Hello family. Merry almost Christmas and shit.” He says. “Or should I say buone feste natalizie? Probably not ‘cause none of you speak Italian.”

“I thought it was Feliz Navidad.” You say.

“That’s Spanish, numb nuts.”

You snort. “Aww look who’s fucking calling me numb nuts, Mr Krabs over there.”

“Hey, hey, hey I went to the damn doctor, I got the damn burny pube shampoo, so can we ease off on the crab jokes fucking... Spongedick Squareballs.” Dave snaps. Jade goves a loud laugh, even snorting, and Rose smirks. You can’t see what Dirk is doing, but you bet he’s laughing, because he’s a bastard.  
“And that doesn’t give you permission to giggle either, Sandy Buckteeths.” Dave says, pointing at Jade on his screen. You assume. Jade looks outraged.

“I was laughing at Spongedick!” She says. Rose shrugs.

“Aren’t we always laughing at John’s sponge dick?” She says. You frown at her, then grin devilishly. Oh you have a mighty jibe for her, you do. She will crumple beneath the weight of the funny you’re about to make

“Hey. Hey Rose. You know who you are?” You say.

“Am I Squidward?” 

You pout. “You ruined my punch line.”

“That wasn’t a punch line it was a banal statement.” She sighs. Dirk seems to scratch his chin, turning to you and saying.

“So I’m Patrick.” With something of a huff. Then Dave pipes in.

“Actually, I figure Bro should be Sandy, ‘cause Texas. Jade’s a little more Patrick.”

“You’re a little more Patrick. You’re Patrick with an STD.” Jade yells, diving to the laptop.

“Special shampoo Jade!” Snarls Dave. Rose plucks the collar of Jade’s sweater, then pulls her back.

“Children, please.” She says. Dave sits back in his chair, clearly desperate to drive the conversation away from his pubic lice.

“So how’s Christmas going, anything eventful happen?” He asks.

There is a chorus of “Uh...” But, before Dave can notice anything being a little off, you strike. You think fast, you think fast like a fucking fox, you are sharp and wise, and you are in there with an anecdote anyone go “uh” before telling!

“Dad barged in on Dirk jerking off in the shower so he slipped and got concussion!” You babble. Dave tips down his shades, and gives you rather a Dirk-esque look.

“... Did you just call him Dirk?” He asks.

“Uh...” You say, cleverly. Like a fox. Jesus fucking Christ.

“He found out my name and he won’t stop fucking calling me it.” Dirk says, sounding annoyed. Dave clicks his tongue.

“Aww Egbert, that’s not cool. Bro doesn’t give first name privileges to nobody.”

“He’s really abusing my hospitality man.”

“I’d kick his ungrateful ass to the curb.”

“I’ll stop with the first name if he stops with the sexual harassment.” You snap. “All day, every day, it’s _John I could bounce a coin off your ass_ this, or _just lick the smuppet_ that.”

Jade shrugs. “To be fair, you probably could bounce a coin off of that thing.”

“See man, it’s not just me, it’s clearly a plush rump.” Says Dirk, and he gives said rump a slap. “It’s like a smuppet’s.”

Rose nods. “If you modelled one off of John’s butt, I would buy it and have my lovers sexually interfere with it. Sexually interfere with its butt.”

“Even I would interfere with your butt sexually.” Adds Jade.

“Jade no, that’s incest.” You say. “When did my ass become literally the centre of the whole universe?”

“When was it ever not?” Dave responds. Jade wiggles her fingers and lunges for your ass.

“I’m going to interfere with it! Watch, watch I’m about to interfere!” She cries. You make a dramatic leap out of her path, swinging your hips as far from her as possible, tripping and landing on the couch.

“No one is going to do any kind of sexual interference to my butt!” You yell. As the door opens. You tumble from the couch, red faced, and stand. “Oh hi Dad.” You say. Your Dad’s face is red too. He smiles tightly, and released Bec from his leash. Bec bounds straight over to Jade. 

“What have I missed here, I can’t see.” Says Dave.

“Mom and Dad just got home from their walk.” Rose tells him. Mom drags Dad over to the laptop by the sleeve of his coat, and takes the spot Jade had vacated in favour of playing with Bec.

“Hello Dave.” Says Dad. Mom waves.

“Hi sweetie!”

Dave’s mouth quirks upward. “I heard about you walking in on Bro this morning.”

“Uh...”

“I bet you just wanted to see, didn’t you? You old dog.” Dave chuckles. You try to interrupt. Dad scoffs.

“Excuse me?”

“I bet you’re way into watching, aren’t you, ya kinky bastard.” Dave chuckles. Dad looks fucking horrified. Dad’s eyes are wide and a little bulgy, and it looks like he has no idea what the flying piss hell he should even say to that. Your Dad did always find Dave a tad unsettling.  
“But it’s super rude to interrupt Bro’s date with Rosie Palms and her five beautiful daughters without even asking first.” Says Dave. There is a moment where your Dad appears to be catching up, and when prompted by a shifty, rather lewd, hand gesture from Dirk (a loose, pumping fist) he clears his throat, and relaxes a little. 

“He shouldn’t have left the door unlocked.” Says Dad. “The shower wasn’t even on, how was I to know?”

“Yeah, sure.” Dave checks his watch, then sighs. “Well kids, I’ll skype you again on Christmas day. It’s like midnight here and I’m getting dragged to the Professor’s family’s holiday gathering tomorrow. I’m pretending to be his daughter’s boyfriend for their elderly Catholic relatives.”

“The one you caught the lice off?”

“No, he’s got two daughters. One’s been ridden more times than Space Mountain, the other’s a massive lesbian.”

“A bike and a dyke.” Says Rose. Dave smiles.

“Bingo. Anyway, I’m going to do a sweet Ollie out of here so...” Dave rises from his chair, and leaps out of shot of the webcam. There is silence for a while, as you all stare at the empty space Dave has left behind him. “Someone hang up.” He says weakly.

“No.”

“Fuck you guys.” A hand appears from the corner of the screen, then the image is gone. 

Dad clears his throat. “Well, now young Dave has gone, I uh. I believe I have an apology to make. First to John. I’m sorry for not listening to you when you tried to tell me that Bro wasn’t taking advantage of you. And for making assumptions about your sexual preferences. And for embarrassing you.” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, and for barging into the bathroom in the first place.”

“Well, thank you Dad but, I’m not really the one you should be apologising to.” You say. You take Dirk’s hand, almost as a show of solidarity. Your Dad’s lips tighten, and he nods.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” He nods more violently then. It’s a little odd. His hat falls off “Bro. I uh. Well, I made some assumptions about you. I made them based on... On your job and your... general mannerisms. And the assumptions I made were very cruel. But, after talking for a while with my wife and after everything you and John said to me earlier, I realise that you’re clearly... Very happy together. And. I clearly panicked. Based on my assumptions because... Well, I love my son very very much, and I just want him to be happy!” Dad shrugs. You grin. “So, if I suppose you’re what makes him happy then. I apologise.”

“Well thanks Egbert.” Dirk says, and he even holds out his free hand for Dad to shake. “I’m sorry I stomped on your toe, by the way. That was a low blow.”

“Yes. Yes it was.” Dad tentatively takes Dirk’s hand, and shakes it.

“So, we have your blessing?” You ask. Dad nods.

“Of course.”

“Sweet.” Dirk smiles. “Why don’t we go out for pizza? On me. To celebrate.”

“Yes of course, what a wonderful idea!” Dad says. “But, I’ll have to insist on paying. I did try to fight you for no reason.”

“Nah, it’s cool Egbert, it’ll be my treat.”

“No. No it isn’t cool, I really should be the one to pay.”

“It’s okay Egbert. I’ll pay.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

“Well, I really would like to.”

Mom divides their handshake with a gentle karate chop. “Boys, boys, boys, let’s just... Let’s just woah here.” She says. “You’re both assholes. You can split the cheque.”

*

When everyone is piling in the car to get to the Pizza Hut, it suddenly dawns on... everyone that you can’t fit six people in one car.

As Rose offers to drive Mom’s car, and take someone with her, Roxy protests loudly, and grabs John by the wrist.

“I’ll drive my own car.” She says. “And John’ll come with me, ‘cause I’ve hardly had the chance to say two words to my own freakin’ step-son here.” Before you can even answer, she’s saying goodbye for you, and dragging you to her car.  
“We need to have a chat, buddy.” She says. She groans as she gets into her seat, rubbing her back, and you buckle yourself in. You glance at her swelling stomach, and think about how fucking weird this whole ‘Mom being pregnant’ thing is. There’s like... a whole potential person inside of her right now. Like, a baby brother or sister.  
Mom buckles her seatbelt, and pats your knee, and you’re brought back to reality. She wants to have a chat. You are suddenly filled with dread.  
“It’s nothing serious I mean. Well, it kind of is.” She mumbles. “Gosh, I think this is the sobriety talking but... Is... Is you and Bro really such a good idea?” She asks. You frown.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re living together and you’re dating and it’s kind of like you’ve skipped about ten steps in your relationship already. And like... From the way Dirk was talking before it sounds like there are some pretty intense feelings going on here.”

“What are you getting at, exactly?”

Mom sighs, and starts the car. “Well... John I don’t wanna be the bitch here, ‘cause I just love you both so much but... Your job’s only temporary. What are you gonna do in like two months when the lady you’re filling in for gets better?”

You scowl, folding your arms like a petulant teenager. “It doesn’t sound like she’s gonna.”

“Yeah but, John. Come on, they’re probably gonna hire a more experienced teacher, your Dad told me the kind of fees that school charges. Those parents ain’t paying for twenty three year old substitutes on their first job.” She says. She doesn’t sound nasty or anything, and you clearly kind of need to hear what she’s saying. But it doesn’t make it sting any less.

“... I know!” You grunt. You flail your arms in frustration. “But I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Mom! I haven’t even thought about it!”

“Well. I dunno John, you might wanna think about slowing things down a little. For both of your sakes.” She sighs, and the car swerves a little. You... tighten your seat belt just a little. “Like, I’m not fuckin’ being all, John you dump his ass right now just... Maybe slam on the breaks a little.” She says, even breaking the car slightly for effect. “’Cause you’re like... You’re at your like... first real _real_ relationship age, you know? But you gotta bear in mind that Bro’s twenty years older than you, and he’s been on his own for a really long time. He might want... different things.” 

“... Like what?”

“Well, you’re just kind of happy to see where this shit goes, right?” She asks. You shrug, a little guilty.

“Well, yeah.”

“Sweetie, Bro isn’t at the kind of age where he wants to do that.” She tells you. And you guess she’s right. You kind of forget Dirk’s already raised a kid, and basically had a whole complete life to himself already.  
“You’re like the first person in a really long time he’s opened up to at all, and he’s planning for stuff to get pretty serious.”

“Oh.” You’re blushing. “I mean, I’m not _not_ serious, Mom, I’m not fucking him around here!” You say, sounding rather defensive. Mom’s voice is shrill when she replies, and she frowns at you.

“I know! I’m just saying that if you’re going to get any further into this, you have to have a real think about what’ll happen if you can’t stay in Texas!” She says. She sounds frustrated, maybe even bordering on angry.

“Rose is moving to NYC!” You yell. 

Well that was immature of you, frankly.

“What?”

“She’s moving to New York!” You say. God you’re a fucking moron, did you know that?

“I’m surprised but not enough to drop this conversation.” Mom snorts.

“Oh.” Then there’s a silence between you. At the next stop light, Mom turns to you. It’s one of the few times you’ve seen her looking genuinely upset.

“You’re a real dick sometimes.” She says.

*

Dinner is pretty uneventful. Mom doesn’t talk to you at all, and she keeps throwing hurt looks at both you and Rose. You pretend not to notice.  
Dad and Dirk talk some. Not a lot though. Well, actually it’s more like Dirk takes the piss out of Dad and Dad tries not to kick him under the table.  
Jade seems to pick up on the tension, and talks loudly to Rose about HOW SHE HASN’T HAD A FREAKING PIZZA IN FOREVER WOW WAS PIZZA ALWAYS THIS GOOD OR WHAT?! And Rose nods along, with a dopey sort of smile on her face.

At some point Dirk kicks off a sneaker and keeps trying to engage you in a game of footsie, but you’re too lost in your thoughts to indulge him.

What the hell are you going to do if you lose your job? It’s not like you can sponge off Dirk till you get a new job, and it’s not like you can just bring him back home with you. And you couldn’t ask him to uproot his whole _life_ just for you.

When it’s too hard to think about, you eat your feelings. All of them.

Seriously, you manage like a whole large pizza to yourself.

When you get home, you decide you’re going to hit the hey early, and Dirk follows you. You get into bed before he does, and while he’s stripping down to his boxers, you watch him.

You think about how beautiful he is, as dumb as it sounds, and you think about how hard it would be for you to leave him.  
You kind of can’t believe you’ve only been dating for two months. When he snaps off the light and crawls in bed beside you, whining about how cold he is, your arms wrap round him, and fit perfectly. Like you’re two halves of the same whole.

“Do you think maybe we should slow down?” You whisper.

“What?” He says. He rolls over so he’s facing you. It’s too dark to see him properly, but you think he’s frowning. “Speak up man, I didn’t hear.”

“I said, do you think... we could fool around.” You blurt. You have the heart of a lion. He grins.

“Okay. Didn’t think you’d want to after today, but I totally could.” He clambers on top of you, and kisses your lips, and your neck. “We could finish what we started this morning, huh?” He chuckles. His hands snake under your shirt, and you laugh, nervous.

“Yeah.” You say.

You kind of thank God Dirk didn’t get to finish earlier, because he seems to distracted to notice that you’re not really into it. When you decline his offer to reciprocate the blow job you give him, he doesn’t even question it, he just conks right out.

Granted you’re a teensy bit offended by that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading as always. 
> 
> I can't believe any one actually is/that this got to 50,000 words/oh god what have i done


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Karrismassu i hope you're enjoying your summers

“John.” Something soft and spongey presses your cheek. You bat it away. “John.” Says a high pitched voice. Blatantly Dirk’s, because he’s pretty shit at voices. “John.” He says again. Realising you aren’t going to get back to sleep (a glance at the clock shows it’s 7am, and you’re super pissed that he hasn’t let you sleep in) you sigh, and answer him.

“What?”

“Do you know what day it is?” he asks, still using a stupid voice. 

“Easter Sunday.” You grunt.

“No.”

“Diwali.”

“No, John, you silly piece of horse shit, it’s Christmas day!” He says. Something soft and spongy presses your cheek again. You feel around for your glasses and plop them on your face, rolling over to Dirk.

“Why are you doing that voice, I didn’t realise you were hosting a fucking kid’s TV show this-” Except, well you roll over, you don’t see Dirk. You see what appears to be a horrifying, plush effigy of Nicolas Cage, with a somewhat sloppily carved wooden face.  
Well, it’d be sloppily carved if he was aiming for say Rumble Fish Nicolas Cage. If he was aiming for Drive Angry Nicolas Cage, he’d done well.  
“Dirk what the ever loving fuck is that.” 

“I’m your new pal, John!” Says the puppet, its mouth clicking up and down. Dirk’s arm was bent, and he had his back to you, so you were forced to look right into the puppet’s cold, dead, Nicolas Cage eyes. “I’m Little Nic!” It announces.

“What is going on.”

“Well, Dirk wanted to get you something a little personal, so he handcrafted me! I’m a ventriloquist puppet in the likeness of your favourite actor!” It chirps. It dawns on you that Dirk trying to do a high pitched impression of Cage.  
“You are still into Nic Cage, aren’t you? Because Dirk thought this might just be a little too easy!”

“You made this for me?” You say. Little Nic leans toward you, somewhat threatening.

“Please direct all your questions to the puppet.”

“He made you for me?” You ask. The puppet nods, mouth still flapping,

“Yeah! That Dirk is a real handy guy!” It leans toward you, close to your ear, quiet now. “He didn’t want to give it to you downstairs, because it’s a little embarrassing! He put an awful lot of effort into me! It’s really kind of pathetic.”

“No, it’s not pathetic it’s... ” Your hand drifts up to your mouth, and your chest flutters. “Incredibly sweet.” You say. You press your fingers to Little Nic’s (dare you say) lovingly carved wrinkles, and run a thumb along the lapel of his little felt suit. You bury your face in your hands.  
“God, Dirk must have it really bad for me, huh?” You say.

“He kind of does, man. Like I said, fucking pathetic.” Replies Little Nic.

“Yeah, maybe it is a little pathetic. It’s like, dude, get off my dick.” 

“I fucking know, right?”

“My gifts are going to look pretty shitty by comparison.”

“It’s the thought that counts.”

“Not really though!” You take the puppet from Dirk’s hand, and examine it. He’s wearing his shit eating grin. You hug Little Nic close to your chest and sit up. “Oh my God, Dirk this is so fucking... God! You’re such a butt, you’re like the biggest fucking butt in the whole world, how are you even breathing when you have a literal ass for a face!” You ramble. 

“I don’t know.” Says Dirk. Oh this is all so stupidly overwhelming! Why did he have to get you such a thoughtful... Well, he didn’t get it! He made it! HE MADE YOU A PUPPET, he physically sat and carved a Nicolas Cage face just for you and... Fucking hell your tummy feels all squirmy and your chest is all wobbly and you just want to roll around and flail.  
So you do. You lie back down, and flail like a baby. “John, why are you doing that?” Dirk asks. “John no.”

“I’m throwing a fit because this is so disgusting. You’re 43, and you’re Dave’s Bro, how are you being so sweet, I can’t physically cope with it, because I have diabetes now.”

“John, no.” He takes hold of a wrist loosely. “John stop.” 

“Okay.” And you do. You scoop the puppet up from your lap, and gaze into his beautiful little Nicolas Cage face. Beautiful face.

“So you like Little Nic?” Dirk asks. You attempt to kiss the lopsided smirk off his face.

“I love Little Nic, okay, he’s probably one of the best presents I’ve ever gotten.” You mumble against his mouth. “My gift sucks compared to this, I’m gonna fucking pee on you, Jesus Christ.” You mutter.

“Please don’t pee.”

“I’ll pee all over your laundry.”

“John no.” You pull away from him before either of you get too handsy, and roll off the bed, onto the floor. You stretch, and adjust your pyjamas. And your weiner. Weiner always needs a good adjust of a morning. 

“This is kind of funny, actually, because I have to give you one of your presents right now too.” You say, rolling over to the closet you’ve stashed Dirk’s present in.

“Why, is it as mushy as mine?” He asks. 

“I wish. It’s just kinda... Not safe for work.”

He grins, and pushes the hair off his face. “Golly Gee, John, are you going to have to grind some Viagra into my mashed potato tonight?”

“Uh... Not really.” You say. You pull the present from the closet (large, and rectangular) and dump it on the bed, sitting back down by Dirk’s feet. He appreciates the Muppet wrapping paper (which he’d better because it cost you like ten dollars for the roll, and that’s all his presents are getting wrapped in from now on till you run out).  
He carefully removes the paper (possibly in an attempt to preserve the Muppets) and examines his gift. His smirk fades, and his eyebrows crinkle. You panic a little, until a smile reappears. It’s soft, and oddly genuine for Dirk, a soft laugh escapes his lips.

“This is a box set. Of me,” He says. And he’s right. The damn thing contains about fifteen of his awful ass movies (including the stupid Labyrinth one). It’s named simply ‘The Dirk Strider Collection’ and is bright yellow, with gross bubble writing. Ugh. You even splashed out and got him the Damn deluxe edition, so it’s felt trimmed and the blurb even describes him as “the first and last true artiste of Puppet Erotica”.  
“I didn’t know they’d made a boxset.” Says Dirk. 

“I know it’s kind of predictable. I basically got you the same thing twice, and I’m really sorry, but. I saw they’d made it, and I remember how much you’d loved your Labyrinth porn, and I just couldn’t resist.”

“No, it’s great.” He says. He smiles, broadly at you and you really really really really really really really really really really really really like it when he smiles at you all toothy and gorgeous and blargh, you’ve become a very weak man.  
“It’s really great.” He says, running his fingers over the felt on the box. “It’s stupid, but I’m actually... pretty fucking proud of these things, so... It’s just nice to see that my work is appreciated, you know?” He looks right into your eyes, all sincere. “I must have been... pretty fucking good at this, huh?” He says. And you swear, on your fathers life, that he wells up. Oh my God.

He blinks suddenly, and looks up at the ceiling, before taking a deep breath and squishing his fingers into his eyes.

“Are you seriously getting all misty eyed over your old porn?”

“Maybe.” 

You grin, and crawl toward him. “You know, your old company just released this. Because of _popular demand_ on your DVDs.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No way! This was nearly sold out!”

“Well fuck.” He laughs. “Thanks, John.”

“It’s cool.” You crawl up the bed, and kiss him on the end of the nose. “Thanks for Little Nick.” You say and he blows a puff of air into your eyes. You flinch, and mess up his hair (even though it’s morning so it looks fucking awful any way) “Hey, Dirk, can I ask you something?” You say, before he assaults you or something, because he’d do that, he’s a bad man when you mess with his hair.

“What?”

“Where did all of your stupid piercings go?” You ask. You point to Dirk’s picture on his boxset (where he’s all young, and pretty, and nowhere near as buff) “Cuz, the website I got this off had a bunch of old pictures of you, and you had like half your ear covered, and your tongue was done and everything.” You say. Dirk makes a face.

“When I was thirty, I got served by some punk chick at the grocery store, and she like... snort laughed at me. And was all, nice metal _Grandpa_ ,” He says, bitterly, “So I got home, and checked myself out in the mirror, and I thought... Holy fucking shit. I’d better take these the fuck out, and leave ‘em the fuck out.”

“So, you felt too old to have a collection of piercings... Yet you continue to wear a cap, pointy anime shades, fingerless leather gloves and your collar popped.” You list each accessory off on your fingers (which he grabs and bends till you yell uncle. Once an asshole big brother always a big brother, you guess)

“Well that’s different. I know this shit is douchey.” He says. “I thought the piercings looked... Badass.”

“They looked kinda badass on the website!”

“Everything used to look badass on me. Have you _seen_ me at nineteen, I’m beautiful. I’m still pretty hot now, but back then it was whole different ball game. I wasn’t some kind of aging eight, I was a solid gold ten out of ten.” He sighs, nostalgic. “When I walked into a room, hymens tore. Anuses relaxed. Loins burned.” He almost looks a little sad. He reminds you of a faded Hollywood starlet for a moment. You snort.

“You’d still give yourself an eight out of ten?” 

“Obviously.” He says. “Don’t be jealous of my looks, John. A six is a solid effort.”

“Oh fuck you! I’m a seven!” Well you are genuinely fucking outraged right now. “An eight on a good day!”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Dirk smirks. You pick up Little Nic, and a pillow. You prop the former up on your nightstand, and throw the latter at Dirk in a huff.

“Ugh, get your hairy middle aged ass out of my bed and get dressed, we’re going downstairs.” You get off the bed, and as you do, Dirk pinches your butt.

“Society might judge you, baby, but you’re always a ten to me!”

“Society judges me as a 7. At the very least.” You say. Then you exit the room. You should be accompanied by a sassy hair flip, really. 

When the two of you get downstairs, everyone is sat waiting for you. After kisses, and hugs, and good-morning-merry-Christmasses, Jade chirps.

“Who’s opening their gifts first?” 

“Why are you even asking that?” Rose says, looking pointedly at John.

The year Mom and Rose moved in, he may or may not have flipped his shit when Rose opened her presents first.  
You dive excitedly into your small pile of presents (the third pile in front of the tree), picking up a small, heavy square. It’s wrapped prettily, in blue paper, and adorned with a silver bow.

“Who’s this one from?” 

“That’s mine,” Says Rose. “You can tell because it’s actually well wrapped.”

“Hey, it might have been from Dad!”

“Mom did our wrapping this year.” Says Dad – who looks cosy in a new a brand new robe. You look down at your gifts, and spot what can only be described as a mangled ball of paper. You shake your head. You’re pretty sure Mom has a PHD.

“Yeah, it shows.” You say, before excitedly tearing the wrapping from Rose’s gift. “You got me... a copy of your book!” You swallow the scream. “Oh my fucking God, this isn’t even out for like...”

“Six months.”

“Holy fucking shit, holy fucking shit.” You’re bouncing where you’re sat. “I’m gonna start reading it right now. Well not right now. On the plane.”

“You’re sworn to secrecy, you understand?” Rose says, sharply. You make a face at her.

“Duh, obviously! Scouts honour. Wow.” You look at your gifts, then back at Dirk. “Is the orange one from you?”

“Yep.” He says, with a nod. You rip off the paper, and find a small, black book in your hands.

“What is it?” 

“Photo album.” He says. “You have to open it right now.” So you do – a tad confused, because there aren’t any photos of the two of you together. 

The entire album appears to be the time when he took all of those pictures of you with the smuppet. There’s also a few pictures of you cooking shirtless, and a picture of you in the bath with Casey. In every picture, you are making a stupid face, because you’re telling him to fuck off with the camera.

You.

You just.

You could kill him.

“Remember when I said I’m going to pee on your laundry?” You say.

“Yeah.”

“I mean it now.” You say, through your teeth. 

Jade bounds over to you, and snatches it from your hands. “Lemme look!” She yelps. Rose scrambles behind her, and snorts, and Mom and Dad even decide to get a look in.

”You’re so hairy!” Rose says, crinkling her nose. Mom elbows her, and whispers (very loudly).

“He gets that from his father.”

“This isn’t a very romantic gift, Bro.” Says Dad. 

Dirk scoffs. “Excuse me?” You lean over and smack your dad on the arm.

“What?” He says. “If you’re going to be dating my son, you should romance him!”

“Well the horse drawn carriage was snowed off.” Dirk says, coolly. Dad smiles.

“Really?”

“Hell no.”

You just go back to your presents, picking up a small, rounded package. “Oh that one’s mine! It’s crappy Chinese tourist stuff. Everyone got crappy Chinese tourist stuff.” Says Jade.

You unwrap a shitty, plastic snowglobe, containing a shitty plastic great wall of China. You shake it. 

“This is beautiful.” You say, flatly.

“Hey, if this documentary gets picked up by Discovery, you can have actual nice shit. Until then, everyone gets a snowglobe. Spoiler alert.” Jade huffs.

“Well I like snowglobes.” Rose mumbles.

“The last one is from me and your Daddy.” Says Mom. You open the oddly shaped, badly wrapped package and unveil your Dad’s favourite pipe.

“Aww. Dad.”

“I’m not suggesting you take up smoking, Son. But, I’m going to try and give up. So, I thought I should give this to you.” He clears his throat. “I always said to myself I’d pass it on to you when you became a man and... I think you showed us all your... Manliness the other day, so... It certainly seemed... Appropriate.” He’s tailed off into a mumble by then, and you’re simply enjoying the feel of the pipe in your hand.

You thank him, and give him a comforting pat on the knee. “Uh... So who’s next?”

“Me! Me, I wanna!” Jade yells. She tears into a small, blue package before anyone else can try. The wrapping contains a small, necklace. It’s a silver chain, with a jade pendant. It appears to have a fancy little dog carved into.“Is this from you, Rose?” She asks, grinning. Rose nods, and smiles. “Oh my Gosh!” Jade looks at the little dog, and squeals, and demands Rose help her put it on.

“I know you must probably have about a thousand jade necklaces by now, but I saw this and I thought it was very pretty. It made me think of you.” Says Rose, as she fastens the pendant over Jade’s hair, then sweeps it out from under the chain.

“Jesus, Rose, you’re so smooth! I’m blushing here.” Jade says. She rubs her thumb over the pendant. Then she picks up your present. “Is this from you two?” She asks. She unwraps your gift, and discovers the small, plush version of Bec Dirk made for her. She squeals.

“I just want to take full credit for making that.” Says Dirk.

“It was my idea, asshole!” You snap. Dirk looks at Jade, then rolls his eyes. 

“I wanted to put a butt on it.” He says.

“I told him not to put a butt on it.”

Jade hugs the plushy to her chest. “Well it’s super fucking cute, oh my God! You’re all spoiling me!” 

Mom and Dad’s gift arouses more confusion than delight. Jade opens their gift and finds a bottle of nice sake – it’s pink, and carbonated and professes to be sweet and refreshing.

“Get it! It’s sake! Because you’re in China!” Says Mom.

“Well, nice try Mom but sake is Japanese, not Chinese.” Jade says, laughing.

“No, that’s the joke.” Mom replies.

“What?”

“That’s the joke, sake is Japanese not Chinese, and you’re in China.” Mom says, as if it should be obvious. Rose and Dirk both snort.

“I didn’t get it either.” Says Dad.

The rest of Christmas day goes off without a hitch. Sort of. Rose made everyone else tacky Christmas sweaters. Dad seems to genuinely enjoy his snowman-smoking-a-pipe sweater, and puts it on delightedly. Mom cries at her cat sweater, and you feel a pang of guilt because, hey, you did tell a hormonal pregnant woman her child would be moving 3000 miles away without telling her. Mom’s upset is all your fault.  
Dirk gets a smuppet in a Santa Claus hat, and he professes it to be “The raddest fucking shit ever”, and scrambles into it like his life depends on it.

Your other present for Dirk (your safe-for-work present) is just this dumb stupid book about the history of puppetry and it’s super dumb but he seems happy with it so, you guess you did good.

Mom also cries when she opens the bottle of rose petal vodka you and Dirk got for her, because “she can’t fucking drink it for like six months what the fuck” and, again, you feel guilty. But you do feel less guilty when she also cries at the snowglobe Jade got her.  
Maybe that’s just what she’s doing today, you know? Crying at stuff.

Dad does his whole “Oh you shouldn’t have” routine, when he opens his standard combination tie-and-bourbon gift, and Rose pretends to be less than impressed with the “IOU 1 HOOKER” card you made her to go along with the perfume you and Dirk got her.

Dave calls in on Skype a little later, wearing a knitted tank top. The tank top has a New Friend Geromy on it, so you can only assume that Rose made it.

Apparently it is too hot in Italy to justify knitting a whole sweater.

*  
Your flight is early the following morning, and Dad drives you to the airport by himself, to save waking up Mom, Rose and Jade.

You’d already had rather a tearful goodbye from the girls the previous evening. So much so that you pretty much spent half the night whimpering into Dirk’s chest about how much you were going to miss them. Which you guess is pretty stupid, because you were hardly upset at all when you left during summer. But it really only just hit you about how much you’ve missed the two of them. When it sinks in that you might not see Jade for another 2 years again, your lip goes all dumb and wobbly and God, you’re so lame, and you love living with Dirk, but...  
The four of you had always planned to live together after college, and it looks like that’s never going to happen. And that makes you really sad, when you think about it.

But at least you have Dirk. And he’s not a dick about you being all feelingsy at him either. You were expecting him to rip you, but he doesn’t at all. He even confesses to you that sometimes he can’t think about Dave without getting a little tear in his eye. He says it’s like having a part of him go missing – like someone stuck his arm on a plane to Italy.

So the two of you basically end up bumming yourselves out so much, it’s kind of a relief to be going back to Texas. You can both just forget about missing people, and get back to working and screwing – which is all you really want to do.

Dirk bitches about the weather for the entire drive to the airport.

When your flight gets called to board, you have the lamest moment with your Dad.

The announcement rings, and he pulls you into this insanely tight hug, and you both whine on about how much you love each other and any one would think one of you was dying.

You and Dirk are quiet, pretty much, for the whole flight home. He does make Little Nic kiss you on the cheek, and tell you to perk up.

It is at this moment you realise that you left Casey alone in the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JOHN
> 
> YOU ARE A BAD DADDY  
> ROSE SHOULD HAVE CUSTODY
> 
> YOU BAKA


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WENT FAST.  
> GOTTA GO FAST.

“Oh my fucking God, Dirk! I said step on it, do you call this shit stepping on it? Because I fucking don’t!” You snarl. He’s driving 50. Who drives 50 when _a baby’s life is at stake_.  
Well, not a human baby! A salamander baby!

Same difference as far as you’re concerned, godammit. 

“This is as fast as I can damn well go without breaking the law, do you want to get pulled over for speeding?” Snaps Dirk. Wow and here you thought he was this big rebel who’d be happy to break the law, not go all ‘nyuh nyuh nyuh speeding nyuh nyuh nyuh’ God, what a loser. You should dump him for this.

“Maybe if you drove faster the cops wouldn’t catch you!” 

“Holy shit.” Dirk sighs heavily, and speeds up to like 53. Asshole. “She’s a smart lizard, I’m sure she’s okay.”

“I’m a horrible human being.” You whine. Because you are. Bad Daddy. Worst Daddy.

“No, you aren’t.” Dirk mumbles. Then he pauses, apparently thinking. “Actually, this is pretty bad. You are a little horrible.”

“I know!” You kick your legs, because... maybe it’ll make the car faster or something. “Dirk, what is wrong with me!? How could I possibly forget to pack my baby!?” You bury your face in your hands. God, your chest is tight and your heart is taking samba classes and you might pee.

“I dunno. She does spend a lot of time shut up in the bathroom.” Dirk shrugs. “I left Dave plenty of places when he was a kid. I mean, the staff at Fabric Barn knew us by name and everything. One time I took him to Disney Land, and I got so excited about going to Disney land that I hopped in the truck by myself, and got half a mile up the interstate before I realised I’d ditched Dave.” 

“That’s a lot worse. Dave is an actual person, at least Casey is a salamander.” You say, feeling yourself relax. “That makes me feel a lot better.”

“To be fair, I never left him alone for more than a couple of hours. You left Casey alone for like... four days.” No, yep, he’s right, you’re much worse, you suck. You stick your face down into your lap and scream just a tiny, little bit. “Hey, hey, hey woah, don’t get upset!” Dirk says, suddenly panicked. You feel his hand grip the back of your neck, and rub slightly.

“I’m not getting upset!” You snarl, batting his hand away.

“I bet she’s fine, I bet she’s better than fine!”

“I’m fine! Just keep your eyes on the road! God!” You slap his hand, and the message is received.

The next ten minutes are the worst ten minutes of your life, because all you can see are images of... Okay, you don’t even want to say what the horrible things you’re thinking about are, but they are fucking horrible. Worst person, you are literally the worst person.

You can’t get up the stairs to the apartment faster, snatching the keys from Dirk, and leaving him to deal with the bags. 

You bang on the door, and yell “Casey!” and are answered with a faint ‘glub’. Your arms are shaking so much, you miss the lock about three times when you try and open the door. “Casey, sweetheart, Daddy’s coming!”

And you do. Giving the door a dramatic and unnecessary kick, you enter the apartment and find Casey sitting in a pile of ripped up cardboard, crumbs and pieces of cereal. Casey waddles toward you, and you run, drop to your knees, and take her into your strong arms. Your Dadly arms.

“Oh Baby, oh God, you’re okay.” You sigh, flooded with relief. She glubs. That means she’s happy to see you. Dirk bangs through the door a moment later, and ditches your bags on the futon. “Dirk, she’s okay! She’s totally okay!” You say, pulling your sweet, slimy baby close to your chest.  
Oh, eww, is she usually this slimy?

Aww who cares.

“She ate all of my cereal!” Dirk protests, inspecting the mess-nest Casey made for herself.

“Who gives a shit about your cereal!” You snap. You loosen your grip on Casey, and look at her sweet, sweet little face. You kiss her. And you kiss her some more. And you just kiss, kiss, kiss her sweet little face. “Oh, sweet baby, sweet salamander baby. Daddy is so sorry he left you all alone. Daddy will never, ever, _ever_ do that to you again.”

Dirk groans. “Dude, stop kissing her, she will have been sitting in the same bath water for four days.”

“I don’t care.”

“Ugh. I’ll just leave the two of you alone. Hand sanitizer’s on the bench.”

*

TG: so guess who feels like a piece of shit for skipping out on christmas  
EB: is it you?  
TG: ding ding ding  
TG: i got a bunch of guilt trippy messages from bro  
TG: manipulative fuck  
TG: should i send you the chat log  
EB: no, i don’t really care enough.  
TG: dick  
TG: any way i was wondering like  
TG: do you think bro would like it if i hauled ass home for new years eve  
TG: because i was checking out the alitalia website and it looks like theyve got some cheap last minute flights  
EB: are you kidding me?? he’d love it!  
EB: he really misses you, man. i think he was kind of bummed to have to do a christmas morning without you.  
TG: yeah it figures what with me being the apple of his eye and everything  
TG: im surprised he didnt break down in tears  
TG: did he  
EB: no.  
TG: oh  
EB: but yeah, you should totally come for new year’s, that’ll be awesome!!  
EB: and it has to be a surprise!!  
TG: well duh  
TG: aw shit thats gonna cause kind of an issue with the sleeping though  
TG: cause if im there then bros gonna have nowhere to sleep  
EB: ... he sleeps on his futon?  
TG: what did you guys trade or something  
TG: i thought he was gonna sleep in my room  
EB: oh yeah we traded!!  
EB: he missed his futon so i got your room, hope you don’t mind, hehe.  
TG: nah i just thought he might like to have some privacy and his own room with you there but hey he stone cold doesnt give a fuck so there you go  
TG: so what are we gonna do should i bunk up with you or bro  
EB: i could bunk up with bro on the futon, and you can sleep in your own bed?  
TG: dude are you sure because he kicks in his sleep like a fucking mule and his feet are cold as hell  
EB: wow it’s like you think i’ve never slept in the same bed with him.  
TG: why would you have donee that though  
EB: because  
EB: i had to bunk up with him at mom and dad’s.  
EB: they sold the fold out couch.  
EB: that is why.  
EB: but yeah wow he’s so kicky.  
TG: cool so ill get the overnight flight on the 29th and ill probably be here by like midday but you’ll have to keep an eye on it you know  
EB: aww, man that’s so great!  
EB: i’m really excited to see you!  
EB: i never thought i’d see the day when i’d actually miss your dumb ass.  
TG: flattered  
TG: but yeah i guess im really stoked about your dumb ass and bros dumb ass  
TG: kind of a shame i missed rose jades and moms dumb asses  
TG: and your dads dumb ass by extension  
EB: at least bro gets to see you.  
TG: yeah i guess  
TG: i appreciate your concern for his well being and stuff  
TG: someones gotta take care of the big puppet fucking monkey while im not there  
EB: haha, well it’s more of a forced concern really.  
EB: like, i don’t want to be charged for neglect if he starves to death while i’m in the house.  
TG: did he let you start cleaning yet  
EB: hell no.  
TG: motherfuckers gonna get ecoli or some shit i swear  
EB: he lets me throw away like... the dirty trash, but the clean trash has to stay.  
EB: like we have piles of fabric remnants lying around JUST IN CASE!!!!  
TG: so hes not collecting take out tins any more  
EB: no, he is, he just lets me wash them.  
TG: wow thats a major improvement  
TG: shit hes so weird  
TG: my heart goes out to the poor fucking twink he suckers into marrying him or whatever  
TG: being his fucking babysitter  
EB: yeah, god that poor loser.  
EB: at least he makes good money!!  
TG: yeah but off of puppet porn i mean  
TG: you know that nic cage movie where hes an arms dealer  
EB: lord of war.  
TG: yeah whatever hes an arms dealer and his wife doesnt know then she finds out all the nice shit they own is paid for with dirty bloody war money  
TG: thats like my childhood with every expensive gift i ever received  
TG: bro these turntables are beautiful but i know you paid for them with dirty semen stained puppet money  
EB: i’d say he only does it because he loves you but like...  
EB: he was into the puppet based porn way before you were even here.  
TG: i know  
TG: god i just  
TG: im gonna say it right now egbert  
TG: dont you ever  
TG: EVER  
TG: google him  
TG: unless you wanna be blinded or whatever i mean fuck like  
TG: top result is some old porn company all  
TG: see the work of the legendary dirk strider the dick rider  
TG: el puppetto erotico as he was known in some territories  
TG: ugh  
TG: you know he was in a porn parody of the labyrinth like the david bowies cock labyrinth  
TG: and he was david bowie  
EB: oh eeeeeeww!!!  
EB: that is so gross!!!  
EB: eeeeewwww!!!!!  
EB: oh who am i kidding, i got him that for his birthday, he made me watch it.  
EB: it’s hanging up in your living room framed.  
TG: wow  
TG: he made you watch it  
TG: so like  
TG: youve seen his dick  
TG: youve seen him fucking  
EB: yep.  
TG: i miss when i was 13 and i thought everything he did was really cool and funny  
TG: instead of like  
TG: i dont know that is just like some weird sexual threat  
EB: oh come on, it wasn’t that bad!  
EB: well, it was.  
EB: but it was pretty funny!!  
EB: and horrifying.  
EB: but funny!!  
EB: but horrifying.  
TG: bought the plane tickets  
TG: awesome  
TG: hey john can i like  
TG: ask you something  
EB: yeah?  
TG: he hasnt been like  
TG: hitting on you or anything like that  
EB: hitting on me?  
EB: well... not for serious.  
EB: he flirts with me all the time but it’s just for fun.  
TG: and youre okay with that  
EB: i’m used to it??  
TG: cause ill talk to him for you if you want   
EB: yeah actually maybe you should!!  
EB: i’m just so afraid that big mean mr strider is gonna take my virtue!!!  
EB: one more comment about my butt and i swear i’m just gonna break down in tears and offer it to him for the pounding!!!  
EB: I CAN’T HANDLE A LITTLE FLIRTING I’M SO DISTRESSED I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S UP OR DOWN OR GAY OR STRAIGHT ANY MORE!!!!  
TG: okay point taken  
EB: everything is cool with bro, numb nuts, we’re buddies.  
TG: okay i was just being a decent friend looking out for your well being and stuff  
TG: because i have a soul  
TG: and you should be less of a douche to me  
TG: thats right i have a spine now  
EB: no you don’t.  
TG: yeah youre right  
TG: okay so ill see you on the 30th  
EB: sweet.  
TG: later man  
EB: later!!

*

“You know, I’m looking forward to New Year’s being just the two of us.” Says Dirk. 

“Huh.”

“Well, I was kind of bummed that we weren’t going to be with the others for New Year’s, but... I dunno, I just thought it might be nice if New Year’s was like... Just... Our thing.” 

“Fucking hell.” You mutter to yourself. That sounds so nice. Fucking Dave. 

He rolls onto his stomach and props himself up on his elbows, giving you rather a shy look. You remove his shades and his cap for him. “So, I was thinking, you know, if it’s not too mainstream, seeing how all we do is sit on our asses and watch TV-” 

“Hey. That’s not true. We also fuck.” You remind him. He smirks. He takes off your glasses for you.

“That is very true. But... Aww, man, John don’t make this anymore difficult than it already is. I’m not fucking... Mr Romance or fuck here.” He drops your glasses unceremoniously on the floor and shuts his eyes, like he’s trying to eke out something particularly painful. “I just... I think maybe.”

You cut him off, with a snort. “Dirk, you don’t have to be coy, I’ve had my hand in your butt.”

“Not your whole hand.”

“Dirk.” You hit him. He blows your face.

“I wanna go out for dinner. Just the two of us. Like. A date.”

You grin. “Wow, like a date. Like what normal people do when they’re dating? Like an actual leaving the house and putting on suits date?”

“Maybe not suits.”

“Will you take off your fucking hat?”

“... Maybe.”

“And wear something other than sweatpants or that same ratty-ass pair of jeans?”

“I don’t own anything other than sweatpants and or those same ratty-ass jeans.”

“Well, you can buy something, I... Ah, aww shit.” You slump down onto the futon, and smack yourself in the forehead. Dave. Fucking. Dave. Couldn’t come home for Christmas, has to ruin nice romantic New Year plans.

“What?”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?” He looks... a little devastated. You feel like an asshole. “I promise I’ll buy something – hell, I’ll even ditch the shades.”

“No, it’s not that, you dumb horse’s ass.” You say, shuffling closer to him. You press a kiss to his bicep. “I have some crap planned. Some surprise crap. Some dumb fucking surprise crap, that you’re gonna love, that we can’t cancel because you’re really gonna love it, and. Yeah.”

“Oh.” Dirk frowns down at you. “Surprise?”

“Yep.”

“You seem kind of... Bummed.”

“Well, I wanted to see you all dressed up. I’m just being selfish. The surprise is way more important.” You smile, reassuringly. He smiles back.

“Can I dress up for the surprise?”

“No, you’ll never live it down.”

“... Okay.” He raises his eye brows at you. You shake your head. So he raises his eyebrows some more.

“My lips are sealed.” You say. “And don’t try and guess, you’ll ruin it for yourself!” You tell him. He smirks, and shifts so he’s on top of you.

“Well someone’s going to have to take my mind off it.” And a kiss to your neck gives you goose bumps.

“I’ll go get Cal.” You say.

“Now who’s being coy?” He straddles you and pushes up your t-shirt, helping you shrug it off.

“Cal?”

“Cal isn’t coy, he’s a bad ass. Cal knows what he wants, and he gets it.” Dirk throws your t-shirt off into the abyss somewhere. You will likely never recover it. “Just like me.” He says, and he winks. 

You think this is supposed to be sexy, but you just end up laughing at him. So he laughs. And the mood is a little ruined. 

“Man, your ass can’t get anything it wants without help.” You snort. “I was talking to Dave before. He says he’s glad I’m taking care of you. Told him I was only doing it ‘cause I didn’t want a neglect charge on my hands.”

“Oh how little he knows.” Dirk says, flirtatious. He kisses your neck again, then stiffens, suddenly, frowning. “Do you think we should tell him?” He asks. “I guess we’re going to have to, if we’re planning on... Staying. Together. For a while.”

“Yeah.” You say, sheepish. More sheepishly than you’d intended. And Dirk picks up on it, and flops back on to his side of the futon.

“Crap. Crap, I’m sorry.” He says.

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m putting an assload of pressure on you.”

“You’re not!” You tell him. You’re not... Quite sure if you believe that yourself. But, you know he doesn’t mean to.

“No, I am, ‘cause... Ah, Jesus Christ, you’re only 23.” He rubs his eyes. “Godammit!”

“Dirk?”

“Are you worried we’re moving too fast?” He asks. It’s pretty out of the blue. You blink at him.

“Did Mom talk to you?”

“Yeah. She talk to you too?”

“Yeah.”

“I hate it when she doesn’t talk shit.” Dirk grunts. “So you want me to slow down a little?”

“Well... I dunno.” You shrug. “I just. I like you. I really, really like you. Like.” Woah boy, here it comes. Here it comes.  
“I think I’m. In.” No, no it doesn’t.It’s not coming at all. False alarm – you’re a coward. “I mean. I cried when we had sex, and I never cry. I didn’t even cry when my Dad died, that one time. I think you know that... What that means. Like. How I’m feeling here.” You mumble. God, you suck.

“Not really sure I do.” Dirk says, teeth peeking out in a smile. You can’t help but smile back.

“Well, I don’t wanna say it, because what if I say it and like. You don’t say it back, that would be fucking humiliating.” 

“Well I don’t want to make you say stuff you’re uncomfortable with.”

“Well now if I don’t say it I look like an asshole!”

“John...” He kisses you on the cheek. “I promise, whatever you say to me, I’ll say it right back.”

You cover your face with your hands. “I love...” Nope. Can’t do it. Can’t do it. “Horse cocks.” You blurt.

“What?”

“Horse cocks. I love horse cocks.”

Dirk barks a wheezy laugh. “I love horse cocks too.”

“... You do?”

“Yes. Man, I’m crazy about horse cocks.”

“You are?” You’re grinning like... a fucking. Thing that grins. Crap. Oh wow. He loves horse cocks. And so do you.  
You’re in horse cocks. Really, really in horse cocks with someone.

“Yes. And that’s why I don’t want horse cocks to feel uncomfortable.” He says, barely able to wipe his own grin away. “I’ve never felt about anything like I feel about horse cocks... So, I’d like to hang on to horse cocks. Even if it means... maybe taking a little break, so horse cocks can have a chance to... find out what makes ‘em really happy. It might not be me, and it’s not fair to take that chance to look around away from horse cocks. Because I don’t want to trap horse cocks into a relationship that they don’t want to be trapped into, just ‘cause they feel obliged to stay with me.” His smile has dropped considerably, and when he looks you in the eye, it’s like a punch in the gut, Kind of a good punch in the gut but... He kind of has a point. A bad point.  
“You’ve got to let horse cocks run wild and free.” He finishes.

“But. I am so happy with horse cocks. Like I said, I... I love horse cocks. I really do, and it’s... I don’t feel tied down to horse cocks at all, but... I guess, I’m a little worried that maybe... Let’s just say me and horse cocks make a real run at being a couple. A real good run at it. I’m just worried that maybe a couple of years down the line, I’m gonna... Maybe, end up hurting horse cocks, because... I dunno, I’m not saying I’m gonna get bored with horse cocks, because right now, horse cocks is the only person I want to be with. But...” No one is smiling now. Especially not Dirk. You feel like an asshole again.  
Well, it’s better than lying, you guess. He did look like you’d stamped on his balls when you used the word ‘bored’ “Horse cocks can get really high maintenance. Like, I have to remind them to eat, and I’m pretty sure they don’t even know how to cook or work a washing machine or anything. Horse cocks insist on keeping fireworks in the dishwasher.” Your voice has dropped to a mumble, half worried, half... kind of annoyed.

“Horse cocks did raise a fucking kid you know.” Dirk protests. 

“I know, but horse cocks doesn’t act like it a lot of the time.”

“So horse cocks got kind of used to having Dave doing the chores... and fireworks in the dishwasher are funny.”

“I’m just worried that horse cocks is going to need more of a babysitter in the long run, than a boyfriend.” You say. Dirk’s entire face drops. It’s blank again. You can practically hear the walls going up.

“Ouch.” He says. He sits up. You sit up. You try to hug him.

“I’m sorry.” You say, but he shrugs you away.

“No, I...” He growls under his breath. “Fuck.” He spits. “Do you wanna take a break?”

“No!”

“Well, what the fuck do you want?” 

“I dunno! I’m happy like this!”

“But things aren’t always gonna be like this.” He’s pretty fucking angry now. Great. Well done John. You couldn’t have just fucking lied for five minutes and let him have his moment. Let both of you a moment. “Like, what the fuck we gonna do when your fucking job goes away?”

“I... I dunno! Do we have to talk about it right now?” You whine. Dirk turns to you, face like thunder, and you panic. And feel awful. If you were ten years old, you’d have been in tears five minutes ago.

“Kind of, John, yeah!” He snaps. Then he rolls his eyes. “Fuck, don’t start making that fucking face!”

“I’m not making a fucking face!” You swear to god, you are not making a fucking face!

“Yes you are you manipulative little fuck!”

“Oh fuck you, Dirk.” You snarl, petulantly kicking at the covers. You fold your arms, and he sags forward, probably so he doesn’t have to look at you.  
“God, this really isn’t how I pictured the first time I told someone I loved horse cocks going!” 

“Yeah, well me neither.” He grunts. Wow, well now you feel like shit, if you didn’t before.

“This... Is the first time you’ve told anyone you... Love horse cocks?”

“Yeah.” He mumbles. You scoot up behind him, and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Look, let’s just...” You kiss his shoulder, and his neck. He doesn’t lean into it, but he doesn’t push away. “Can we just forget about that for the next couple of days. And just.” You nibble his ear. “... I really love horse cocks. And. It would be nice if me and horse cocks could... You know. Because. Love and stuff.” He shudders, at that.

“God, you’re a fucking piece of work sometimes.” He grunts.

“I know but you love it. You actually do. You just said.” You saym feeling rather smug. Still like an asshole, just... a smug asshole.

“I swear to God, the second you get back to work, we are having this conversation.” He says. You kiss him again, wetly on the neck, sucking slightly. You earn a soft sigh.

“Less talking more fucking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> horse cocks


	17. Chapter 17

It’s really stupid, but you are a big ball of nerves all day on the 30th.

Since the incident the other day, Dirk seems to be trying really hard to be in a foul mood with you, but he can’t quite bring himself to be. Because horse cocks.

He wakes up at nine when you elbow him, and tell him to get up and get dressed.

“Why. It’s nine and the site is closed for the holidays. No one has to be up. You’re an asshole I’m not getting up.” You sit up, but he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back onto the futon.

“It’s surprise day today Dirk, that’s why. The surprise is coming, and when it gets... Delivered, we can’t be naked and spooning.” You tell him. He pouts, and lets go of you, you go off to find your underwear.

“Why not.” He whines. 

“It’ll freak the delivery guy out.” Now you swear your pile of clean undies was in your corner, but they appear to be missing from the rest of your clothes. 

Oh god, as far as Dave knows you’ve been staying in his room, it’s going to look kind of suspicious if all your crap is piled up in the living room. You panic, and captchalogue everything.   
Which does help you locate your underwear.  
They must have been under your jeans or something. You select an outfit, and go to the bathroom, where you greet Casey and make yourself look presentable. When you go back to the living room, Dirk is still in bed, and still decidedly naked.

“Why can’t we go out on New Year’s Eve if the surprise comes today?” He asks. And he has a damn good point. 

“All will become clear.” You say. Dirk kicks his legs childishly.

“Is it a pet?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“... I’ve always wanted my own pet.” He says, wistfully. He kicks the covers off himself, like he’s trying to make a move to get dressed, but he just kind of ends up lying there with his weirdly hairless schlong out. You really wish he would stop waxing, it’s so creepy.  
“Like, when I was a kid, when I was in my first foster home, we had this parakeet, Scruffy, and man I loved that fucking bird. I loved that thing like a fucking a baby, I taught it to say all gangster words and shit.” He sighs, you melt a little, “Are we getting a parakeet?” He asks, brightly. And now you actually feel kind of bad that you’ve gotten him the child he misses dearly instead of a fucking parakeet.

“... I’m not telling you. That is precious, but I’m not telling you.”

“I’m gonna be fucking heartbroken if it ain’t a parakeet.” You try to find something to throw at him, but fail. So you just roll your eyes and shuffle into the kitchen.

“What do you want for breakfast?” You ask him.

“Last night’s takeout.” You look over your shoulder, and there he is. Still with the schlong hanging all over the place. You decide then and there that he really needs to do something about how he eats. Sure he’s all muscular and taut... Sculpted and strong and flexible and... nice thick legs with the... the arms and...  
Okay now you’re getting distracted. His diet isn’t healthy, that’s the point you’re making. And being all of the hot bodily things doesn’t mean he’s healthy.

“No. Jesus Christ, I am forcing you on a diet.” You say. 

“No you aren’t.”

“Yes. Yes I am,” You say firmly, as your examine the fridge. It’s full of nice meats and vegetables and fish and stuff and then there’s your asshole boyfriend who won’t eat anything that hasn’t been deep fried by an Asian teenager who’s been forced to work in his Mom’s restaurant.   
“Partially because I’m concerned about your health but mostly because _how do you even poop?_ ” 

Seriously, it’s been bugging you forever.

“Maybe I secretly snort lines of fibre while you’re not looking.” Dirk says, finally getting up and finally covering his dumb penis which you swear was looking at your before. 

“You think I don’t notice when you’re off your ass on Ry-Krisp.”

“Baby, I can change.” He says. His ratty ass jeans are crumpled up on the floor, on top of his laptop and a couple of smuppets, and he trips while he tries to pull them on. At least he’s not wearing sweat pants, today the ratty jeans are marginally cleaner than his sweat pants.

“How about eggs, bacon, and a nice slice of wholemeal toast? That’s actual food.” 

“Chinese food is actual food, don’t be racist, dog.” He protests. You ignore him because he’s a douche bag, “I don’t like eggs unless they’re frying my rice. And wholemeal tastes like ass.”

“Asses taste like ass, wholemeal tastes like delicious and healthy. Plus I bet you haven’t even had eggs in years. You’ve barely tried my cooking.”

“I don’t like it.”

“No, you’re not used to it because you’ve spent decades abusing your taste buds and intestinal tract.” You decide to play dirty, roll out the puppy dog eyes “Just try it for me, asshole.”

Dirk struts over to the kitchen counter and sighs, almost knocking into you as you take the eggs, the bacon and the I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-butter from the fridge.   
“Okay, fine. Fine I’ll try your stupid fucking eggs but I’m going to sit here and make sure you compromise with plenty of bacon.”

“Maybe you should put a shirt on if I’m frying bacon.” You say, before he hops up. He nods, and scuttles over to his shirt pile, which resides by your neatly folded pile of clothes.  
Man you have got to buy a dresser or something.  
“I was just kidding, I’m grilling it.” You say, and he pouts. And the pout becomes even more substantial when you fish out the scissors, and attack the bacon.

“Are you cutting off the fat too?” He whines. You dn’t even dignify it with a response, of course you’re cutting the fat off the bacon. You know, if he really loved you he would know that bacon fat upsets your tummy.

So you lovingly prepare scrambled eggs, while Dirk watches you mournfully from the rarely used kitchen table, until you instruct him to retrieve cutlery. He has, apparently, sort of forgotten which drawer he keeps it in, and you have to tell him.   
He’s so used to takeout chopsticks, you’re sort of curious as to whether he even knows how to eat with a knife and fork any more. You arrange the eggs, and the bacon and the wholemeal toast (no butter) on a plate and place it infront of Dirk, who eyes it not only with distaste, but with a degree of distrust. You gave him like 4 pieces of bacon though, little bitch.  
He hasn’t put his shades on yet, so you can see every fucking crinckle of his dumb narrowed eyes, as he picks up a fork and stabs at the eggs. You hope he can tell how un-amused you are by all of this.

He pops a little chunk in his mouth, and mulls it over like he’s at a fucking wine tasting.

“What do you think?” You ask, annoyed, after a moment. He swallows, and shrugs.

“They’re okay.” 

“Progress.”

“Pass the salt.” He says. And you do, sliding it over the table to him. He tips it up over the eggs and just... doesn’t stop.

“Dirk.” You says. But he keeps going. Keeps on salting. For a good couple of minutes, till it’s actually starting to pile up.“ _Dirk._ ” And then he stops, looking rather self satisfied.   
He then scoops up a hearty fork full of eggs, stuffs it in his mouth, and promptly gags. He runs to the sink.

“I regret that.” He says, coughing.

“Yeah, I figured you would.”

He returns to the table with kitchen roll and dabs at the eggs, attempting to clean the salt from them. 

Then you both eat like normal human beings.

“The eggs are good.” He says, suddenly. “Toast is dry as balls though.”

“Put the eggs on the toast.” You suggest. This is a revelation.

Your phone buzzes, so you answer it.

TG: john are you there  
TG: john im at the airport  
TG: i dont think i have enough money for a cab  
TG: can you come pick me up   
EB: i guess i’ll have to gosh!  
EB: don’t you have any money with you?   
TG: i have euros   
EB: useful.   
TG: they have an exchange thingy but i still doubt id have enough  
TG: but any way are you super excited to see me  
TG: did you pee a little   
EB: yeah, maybe.   
TG: good same   
EB: wow so i’ll be on my way!   
TG: sweet  
TG: awesome  
TG: im doing a tiny little dance

You scarf down the rest of your breakfast as quickly as your oesophagus will allow. 

“Can I borrow the truck?” You ask. 

“... You can drive?”

“Yeah, just not very well.”

Dirk chews his bacon thoughtfully. Christ he eats slow. “Why?”

“Gotta go to the store to prepare some stuff for the surprise.” You say, with a shrug.

“The pet store?”

“I’m not telling you!”

He keeps his keys in the pocket of his rarely used jacket (crappy fake leather, looks like he got from a store for plus sized women or something) and he barely even has time to bid you farewell before your shoes are on and you’re out the door.

*

After some screaming and jumping up and down like cheerleaders, you help Dave with his luggage, and pile it into the back of Bro’s truck.

“Mother fuck, it is so hot!” Dave complains, awkwardly stripping himself of his bulky sweater before strapping himself in to the passenger’s seat.

“Seriously? Dude it’s like 55 today.” You snort. “Isn’t it hotter in Italy?”

“No.” Dave looks at you like you’re stupid. “I’ve been in motherfucking Milan, John, it’s pretty far North compared to Texas. It’s like level with Maine on a map.”

“It is, huh?” Geography was never your strong suit.

“And it’s been snowing man, I’ve only seen snow like two whole times before-”

“At my place.” You remind him, proudly. Oh how fondly you remember that moment of genuine unabashed glee on his face the first time he saw real snow. He’d later deny it completely. You start the engine.

“Yes, at your place, and I have seen enough of that shit to last me a life time. I have been up to my ass. Literally up to my literal ass.”

“So maybe Rose should have knitted you a full sweater for Christmas.”

“Nah, sweater vests are cool.” He says. You smile, glad that Dave is finally learning to appreciate the fine art of sweater-vestery. “Not the way you wear them though.” He corrects himself.

“Fuck you, I look sharp.”

“You look like a grade school teacher. I know that’s what you are but I feel like it’s not a look you should be aiming for in your everyday life.”

“Oh ‘cause you’re Mr Art School, Mr Milan you know everything about fashion now?”

“I know more than you, that’s for sure. Look at your fucking jeans man, skinnies are back in, they’ve been back in for like six months and those are like... boot cut.”

“They’re comfy.”

“They’re awful.”

“At least I can feel my balls. Can you feel my balls?” Dave gives you a look, and you snort at your own slip. “Oh my God, I meant can you feel your balls, not my balls. Please don’t feel my balls.”

Dave smirks, slightly, in a way that reminds you of Dirk only it’s not sexy when Dave does it. “You spend like, four months with Bro and you’ve gone full gay already.” He says. And you swallow.

You know what, fuck it. You’re just going to tell him now. You’re in a moving vehicle so he can’t flip his shit and run off, and you two will be forced to have a conversation about it.

“Yeah, Dave, about that...” You take a deep breath. You’re going to fucking do this. “Look, don’t freak out, but me and Dirk are dating. Have been for a couple of months.”  
You take a deep breath, and wait for the fallout.

Dave just kind of snort/sighs?

“Yeah, sure you are.” He says. “Is this gonna be joke of the week, or something? I can just see your little fucking prankster’s gambit going like wub wub wub wub wub!” He levels his hand up to the roof of the car, and you’re trying to give him your best ‘bitch, seriously’ face while keeping your eyes on the road.

“... Dave, I’m not kidding, we’re dating.”

“Yeah, kay.”

“We are!”

“Oh sure, whatever I bet, totally. I can totally see you dating my Bro that is totally a thing that is happening.” Dave shakes his head at you. “It’s just not gonna work, John.”

“I’m being deadly serious.”

“Kay.”

“Well fine, you can not believe me. You can wait and tell Dirk that you didn’t believe me, and he can do something that scars you for life.”

Okay so you and Dirk have wound Dave up enough times before in your own right but... You’re really shocked that he doesn’t believe you?  
Like seriously you were so freaked out about telling him because... Well, it would be kind of hard to swallow. It would be like if he started dating your Dad! You wouldn’t like... Hate him for it, you could just imagine maybe feeling grossed out. Maybe even a little jealous, or betrayed. Because fucking people’s Dad’s isn’t really cool a lot of the time.

So that’s pretty much how the whole car ride goes. Dave I’m dating your brother. Are not. Are too. Are not. Are too.

By the time you get back to the apartment you’re like 100% done with trying to argue with Dave. You knock on the door before you open in, just in case.

“Dirk, I’m back, are you decent?” You ask. Dave clunks a bag behind you and you shush him.

“Do you want me to be decent?” Asks Dirk, huskily. You slap your forehead. You’re tempted to slap Dave. He’s been here five minutes and he’s already cockblocking you.

“Yes.” You say.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“... Crap.” Dirk mutters. There’s a moment, and a little banging, before you’re summoned. “Okay you can come in.”

So you do. After you walk in, you squawk “Look who I found at the airport!” And Dave lopes in behind you, completely deadpan, and dumps his bags.

“Hey Bro.” He says. Dirk gives him a once over, and nods.

“Sup.” He says.

You’re waiting for the tearful hug but... Nope. Dave just sort of wanders over to his Bro, gives him a fist bump then goes to the fridge.

“... Seriously?” You cry. “Seriously, Dave flies all the way from Italy and you don’t even... Jesus Christ!”

“What?” Dirk shrugs. 

“Just ‘cause we’re not lame-os like you and your Dad.”

“This is ridiculous.” You mumble. At least Dirk made the couch back up after you left, so you have something to drop yourself onto in a huff. Dirk sits next to you, Dave sits on the floor, and leans against the wall.

“So how are you my man, you been up to much?” Asks Bro.

“Nah. Art stuff.”

“Get any more STDs?”

“No, I only spent like ten minutes sleeping around and it made me feel dead inside, so I stopped.” Dave says, Dirk looks concerned for a moment, before Dave waves his hand and shakes his head. “So Egbert tried to convince me you were dating in the car. Fucking lame joke, or what?” Dave says, trace of a snicker on his voice.

Dirk gives you a look, and you shrug. You try to convey ‘Dude, I tried to tell him but he just wasn’t having it’ in a look, and Dirk totally gets it. He tips down his shades and he’s all ‘seriously? Should we just let him carry on thinking you were kidding, or should we press on with it.’   
You purse your lips all like ‘I don’t know man, really it’s up to you but I think it would be a lot easier if we just told him’.

Dirk nods, and stretches to wrap an arm round you. “Nah, we’re dating.” 

“Huh.” Dave’s jaw slackens.

“Me and him, we’re like a thing. Boyfriends, you know.”

Dave’s brain seems to try and take a moment to process this. 

“Bro, I’m not a kid any more, I can tell when you’re messing with me.” Dave’s brain rejects the information.

“I’m not messing with you.”

“He’s really not!” You protest. Dirk taps your hip and you present your bum, which Dirk places a hand upon.

“Check it out.” He says. “I’m touching his butt.”

Dave clicks his tongue. “John used to let people touch his butt for a dollar in college, he’s not precious about who touches his butt.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve never claimed to be a nun.” You say. Dirk smiles at you a little. The smile seems to throw Dave, and he quickly clears his throat.

“So, you planned any wholesome activities for me?” He asks.

“Well me and John were going to have a romantic New Year’s together, but seeing as how you’re here to stop me from getting laid for the next...”

“Five days.”

“For the next five days, you’re going to have to figure shit out between yourselves.”

You wiggle closer to Dirk on the couch. “I’d actually really like to go out for dinner any way, I’ve barely left the apartment in months.”

“Cool.” Dirk says. He looks at Dave. “Taco Bell?”

“Taco Bell.” Dave nods. A bropact has been made. They will go to Taco Bell.

“I didn’t mean like Taco Bell.” You complain.

“We can go out for drinks after, and get nice dinner on New Year’s.”

“And go out for drinks after.” Dave adds.

“Obviously.”

“And then you and John can put me to bed and have some wild dirty sex on your futon.”

“Probably not, I’ve always hated fucking while you were in the apartment. I can like barely get it up unless I’ve had completely blue balls.” 

You groan. “Great, so five whole days with probably not even my right hand because I don’t like jerking off with Casey in the bathroom.”

Dirk nuzzles your ear. “We can send him to the store.” He whispers. Okay, wow no, you will not giggle. You will not.  
Okay you giggled.  
Dave whistles, impressed.

“You guys are really dedicated to this.” He says. Then he stands. “I’m going to shower, because I feel disgusting.” And without another word, he walks into the bathroom. Dirk’s face relaxes, and his body seems to say against yours. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Wow so he’s just... Completely in denial, huh?” You say.

“Yeah, he’ll do that.” Dirk mumbles. “Like when I tried to tell him Santa’s not real. Wouldn’t have it. Had to kill him off. Told him Santa was on the roof, showed him a tipped over sled, and I was all, Santa’s dead Dave, I’m sorry.”

“You told me about it.”

“I know I just like telling that story. It’s hilarious. I’m the funniest person I know.”

“You know like six people, and Mom is way funnier than you.”

“You bitch.” He hisses. You laugh again. He turns his head slightly, and kisses your temple. “Thank you, by the way.”

“It was his idea to come, man.” You say.

“Yeah but. Thanks. Great surprise.”

“Better than a parakeet?”

“Nah, parakeets are really rad.”

*

Hilariously, the boys (which is how you are now thinking of them? The boys. Your boys. You’re turning into a middle aged mother) decide against actually going to a taco bell, and Dirk takes you through the fucking drive-thru and you eat on the way to the bar.

The bar you get driven to is quiet, and maybe a little smokey and depressing, but sort of nice and friendly at the same time.  
Like the lady behind the bar is really nice, but she’s sort of dead behind the eyes. The bar is like that.

You buy everyone a beer, and Dave complains that he would have preferred a Mai Tai.

“So how’s your love life, Dave? I thought I’d ask seeing as how we’re dating and all.” You ask, as you put the beers on the table, and tuck yourself neatly under Dirk’s arm. Dave just stares at you from across the table.

“Pretty shit.” He says. “I’m assuming neither of you have had sex in months.”

“Literally yesterday, we literally had literal penis-in-mouth sex yesterday.”

“Yeah, kay.”

“So why’s your love life shit, Dave?” Dirk asks, unnatural chirp in his voice, as he squeezes you closer to him, very deliberately. 

“Because our’s is just peachy!” You say. Dirk exhales.

“Well, we have our ups and downs.”

“We’ve had like two downs.”

“One pretty important down.” He mumbles. You roll your eyes.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it till after New Year?”

“It was a thing that happened, I just wanted to remind you.”

“But it was like directly followed and preceded by an up, so...” You shrug, and you can actually feel Dirk seizing up next to you. You stretch your neck and mumble “Horse cocks,” into his ear, and he smiles.

“Still ain’t working, ladies.” Dave says, slapping his hands rhythmically on the table. “My love life is shit because I am Dave Strider.”

“I’m sure you’ll get a girlfriend one day.” You say. God you might as well have just like... socked him in the shoulder while you did. “Or a boyfriend, you know we don’t judge in this household, seeing as how I’m sleeping with your Bro now and everything.”

“Let’s not talk about this. And let’s drop the whole you pretending to be fucking thing, and just... I wanna get hammered.” Says Dave.

“Seeing as how I’m driving then, I might finish this then leave the two of you alone to drink.” Dirk mutters. “That okay with you, darlin’?”

You snort. “Yeah that’s okay with me... Honey booboo?”

“Can you guys quite this, seriously?” Dave says. He sounds as un-amused as he looks.“Beating a dang old dead horse.”

Dirk finishes his beer and leaves, and promises that he’ll spend his alone time with Dave another day, and that tonight was your night and stuff.

You move to sit next to Dave so you can hear him better, and you talk about stuff you can’t talk about with Bro their. Mostly Dave’s erotic adventures. Except in detail they’re not all that erotic or adventurous, they just sound kind of depressing, and God bless him Dave just sounds really lonely. He complains about Milan as much as he raves about it, seemingly unable to decide whether this year has so far been a blessing or a curse.

Then he gets on to how pretentious people in his class are, and how difficult it is for him to make friends, and how he feels kind of like his skin is too tight sometimes. 

His head thunks against the wood of the table after his fourth double vodka and coke.

“I hate everything.” He says. 

“I know, Dave.”

“No seriously, like I mean, I’m like woohoo Italy, but at the same time it’s just like Italy... Nu uh.” He sits up, and nurses his drink. “Like, there’s like all this oil in all the food, and commercials for the oil make it seem like it’s this land where everyone is young and beautiful and lively forever. But at the end of the day, it’s just oil. You put it in food and it makes it taste better but at the end of the day it just makes you fat, and the olive oil it’s like... It’s like just this metaphor for my whole life you know, the commercial is all like woah baby but the reality is just sort of tasty but ultimately not a good thing to have a whole bunch of.”

There was probably something like totally deep in that there pile of words that just fell out of Dave.

“What?”

“No it’s like. You know when you just you’ve gotten a chance to like... I’m a bird. I’m like free and away from the nest and I’m all flying and beautiful and painting boobs but then suddenly like I’m just feeling like I’m crashing into all these trees and it’s like woah motherfucker I am stuck in this forest but the forest is of my own emotions.”

“Dave, if we were talking on pesterchum, I’d have told you to shut up ten minutes ago, but you seem genuinely upset, and I have no idea what you’re talking about, so I’m just gonna like...” You wrap your arm around his shoulders, “Put my arm around you like this.” You pat him “There you go.”

“Thanks John.” He mumbles. He turns to face you, and you kind of turn to face him even though you both smell like alcohol and tacos and that kind of makes your faces get way too close together.

“You seem like you’re having some poopy, poorly articulated, feelings right now. But those poopy feelings will probably pass.” You say. Dave nods, and his eyes flutter shut. “And you’ve always got to remember, you’ve got your Bro, and you’ve got Rose, and Jade and me!”   
For a second, you think he’s gone to sleep.

Then he leans in, and kisses you on the mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow PLOTAWHAT twihistidditybiscuit!!!
> 
> ALSO: I now have a writing blog on tumblr, follow me at bluethallium.tumblr.com


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> could this be the greatest anti climax in fanfic history  
> probably because people have bEEN FREAKING OUT AT ME FOR LIKE A MONTH AND I'E JUST WANTED OT BE LIKE
> 
> GUYS  
> SSHHHHH

“Dude fucking gross!” You squeal as you lurch away from him violently. Oh god, ew, ew ew Dave germs, Dave germs, icky gross Dave germs, get 'em off, get 'em off, get 'em off! God only knows where that mouth as been uuugh, you feel absolutely no guilt as you wipe at your face with your sleeve Jesus Christ he tastes like flat cola and tacos and you hate flat cola.

“Aww, come on, Egbert we’re both single, I feel vulnerable as shit, you smell nice. We can do the dirty a whole one time, I just want someone to hold me in their strong manly arms for five minutes who isn’t some annoying Italian art student.” Dave looks affronted, and you just. Ugh. Dave. Drunk Dave is the worst, God he's such a dick, why can't he hold his liquor, his mom is Roxy for Christ's sake

Dave leans in again, and you grab his shoulder, “Dave!" You yelp. You make eye contact with him, or at least you try to, because he's wearing shades, and it's pretty dark! "I am, one hundred percent seriously, dating and in love with your Bro.” 

“Now you’re using the dumb prank to blow me off. Great. Just when I couldn’t feel any shittier, I can’t believe this.” Dave fucking pouts at you, Jesus Christ. You hate him, he's such a fucking queen, he's just this big giant toddler. 

“But-” You try. You fail. Dave makes a funny hissing noise.

“Even fuckin... Dave I don’t find you attractive would have done better than some lame-o dumb excuse.”

You blink, “Oh my God, I am so fucking done with you right now." So you stand, and you fucking shove past him, out of your booth, and you make sure you go ass to face when you do because that's what Dave is, he's a big ass face. 

Dave continues to complain, “Dave Strider, his face is so hideous and his company so obnoxious that his best friend won’t even throw him a pity fuck. My life is just like this tragic spiral of shit, I swear to-” Once you're out of the booth you hit him on the arm, “Ow!” He yelps. You take your cell out of your pocket, and dial Dirk.

“We’re going the fuck home like right now.” You snap. Dave sticks his lip out, and blows a puff of air that sends his bangs flying up in the air. Dirk answers the phone, and can barely say hello before you've snarled: “Pick us up, Dave has lost his mind.”

“Uh, okay.” Dirk says. “How so?”

“He like just stuck his tongue down my throat!” You squeak. Dirk takes a moment to respond, apparently working out exactly how pissed he should be. Oh, oh no, you hope you haven't gotten Dave in trouble. 

Luckily, Dirk snickers, “Eww, Dave germs on my boyfriend." He says. "Put him on for a second." So you shove the phone at Dave. He takes it from you with a suspicious frown.

"Yello... No. Okay, yeah... I dunno I was horny and he was there... Yes I'm aware I need to stop doing that kind of shit, thanks Mom. Don't bring up the crabs. You dare. No. No. La la la la la, I'm not listening." Dave almost drops your phone when he attempts to shove his fingers into his ears, "I don't see why you care, anyhow!" Dave snaps. Then he pauses for a long moment, face going through about ten different variations of a frown, "But I don't believe you... Because it's like fucking ridiculous! Because John thinks you're a loser and he doesn't even date men." Dave scoffs, "John doesn't think I'm a loser! I'm a winner... No I'm not. Am not. Am not!" You're dating a fourteen year old boy with a twelve year old brother. "What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals-"

You snatch the phone before Dave does the whole monologue, "Gimme that!" And you're met with Dirk's chuckling, "Are you laughing?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just so impressed he still has that whole thing memorised, he's precious."

“Ugh, just hurry your ass up.” 

"Yeah wow, I missed you too baby, light of life, fire of my loins." Dirk sniffs. You hang up. When you turn back to Dave, he had his face on the table.

“Dave, before you sink into one of your shame spirals, I’m going to remind you of something you once said to me.” You say, nudging him in the shoulder, “Remember that time you humped my leg in that closet during a game of spin the bottle, and then you threw up on our shoes.”

“No, but I remember you telling me about it.”

“Do you remember what you said to me when you were hung over?”

“Nu uh.”

“You said, Egbert, if I’m drunk enough for you - then I’m too drunk. Not as drunk as I’d have to be for Rose, but still. Too. Drunk.”

Dave snorts, “Do you have that fucking written down or something?”

“No, afterward you were just like. Commit that to memory Egbert, commit it to memory if you care about me at all.” You sigh, nostalgically, “And then you went to the bathroom and pooped and threw up at the same time.”

Dave squishes his face harder against the table, “Why am I so lame.” He whines.

“Look at who raised you man, then look at your genetics. I figure it’d be pretty obvious you were a dyed in the wool loser.” Dave groans again. “Wow, that wasn’t as comforting as it sounded in my head.” 

“I should have known not to try and get a pity fuck from you. You only sleep with cougars.”

“And Bro.”

At least that gets Dave's head off the table, “No that’s still not funny, and it’s not getting any funnier.” He pauses for a moment, and before you know it, he's flash stepped past you and hopping through the bar, “I’m going to find sex.”

“Yeah, no you aren’t.” And you follow him. Dave runs. The barman just looks at the two of you, and shakes his head. 

“Yes I am, I’ll find it. I will find some.” You're like an inch away from grabbing the hem of his t-shirt when he spots a table with two women. A pretty, plump woman who looks around your age, black hair tied up in childish pigtails. She's sat with a brunette, with her back to the two of you. “There’s some." Dave says, flash stepping over to them. You run. Dave might be fast, but you can still get across the room in time to do damage control.   
“Hello, my good madam, could I interest you in a ride on Space Mountain.” Says, Dave to the brunette. He tips his shades and winks. “Space Mountain is what I’ve named my penis.” 

You arrive just as he says penis, but he doesn't expect you to punch him in the shoulder again. You win.

“John?” Says a familiar voice.

Wellp, looks like Crystal dyed her hair brown.

“Oh. God. Crystal. This is Dave, ignore him, he’s insane and drunk, we're not even friends, we've never met and that's not really what he call his penis.”

“What if the lady doesn’t want to ignore me, hello.” Dave leans onto the table, and smiles lazily. Crystal blinks at him, and mouths an apology to her friend.

“So... How’ve you been?” You ask, rocking on your heels.

“Um... Pretty good.” She smiles, stiffly. She looks tired. You think miss the hair extensions, “Sorry for not... talking to you. And stuff. I felt... Awkward.”

“I also felt awkward.”

“Good, I’m glad we agree on that.” 

There's a silence, and Dave tried to speak again, so you clear your throat, “So... How’s your divorce going?”

“Um. I decided to leave it till after Christmas. Spring it on the family in the new year.” She smiled tightly. You figured Candy was being just a shade too happy-go-lucky for a little girl whose parents were divorcing. 

Dave pulls up a chair, and Crystal's friend protests weakly, “John how do you know the pretty ladies?” He asks. 

“I only know Crystal. We went on a date that your Bro ruined because he wanted me for himself.”

“How did that like... Go? With him. I meant to ask but I was too busy being too embarrassed to face you!” Crystal then lets out a really weird, loud laugh, and has a gulp of her drink after.

“Oh, we’re dating.” You grin, and feel fuzzy, “I’m really happy.” And you really are, gosh! Even with Dave being a douchehat next to you, you're still on like the biggest up ever. Crystal smiles warmly

“It kind of shows, you’re all... Glowy and pretty.”

“Aww, shucks.” You think you feel yourself blushing. Dave, who has apparently given up on Crystal, gently elbows the dark haired friend.

“Hey, if you’re looking for someone to keep you company while your friend and John catch up, I’m in town for another four days.” He says. Then he winks. “I speak fluent Italian, you know.”

“That is so nice for you,” replies the friend. Dave grins.

“Buona sera, principessa. Non parlo molto bene italiano, sto perso - dov’è il bagno? Mangiare, mangia, mangiamo.” He holds out his hand. "I don't believe I got your name."

"Gabriella Ferrari." Replies the girl. Dave's face drops.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I don't suppose you actually speak-"

"I do."

"Oh." Dave leaps out of his seat, "John, we need to leave." He says.

"What, why?" Dave doesn't answer. There's a breeze, and he's not standing next to you anymore, and the door of the bar bangs open and slams shut. You blink, "Okay, so I guess we're leaving." You smile shyly at Crystal, "Um. You should start talking to me again when we go back to school."

"I will." She kind of... Reaches out and like... pokes your side. It's weird. "I missed you." She says. You grin.

"I missed you! I mean, I don't have any friends in the city so." Wow, okay that sounded really lame. It's time to back out of the bar, John, before Dave wanders into the road and gets lost, "Bye bye!" You trill.

"Bye, John." Crystal replies. You exit the bar.

Then you stick your head around the door, say "Sorry about Dave!" and leave for good.

Dirk pulls up in the truck about five minutes after you find Dave banging his head against a lamppost. 

Dirk asks you if you had a good night while you force Dave into the backseat, despite him protesting that he's totally called shotgun, when he totally did fucking not, because it so doesn't count if the person you're trying to out shotgun is out of earshot. And there was no way he could have seen the truck, what a total bunch of bullshit.  
Luckily Dave weighs about as much as your average sack of potatoes, and you are a strong and powerful man who actually managed to successfully navigate puberty, so shoving him in the backseat is pretty easy. 

John always sits in the front seat. That is simply the way things work.

"Dave, sweetie?" Dirk says in a sing-song voice. You keep your eye on Dave in your over head mirror.

"What," he grunts.

"I think when we get home, we need to have a serious, serious chat about mine and John's relationship,"

Dave snorts and kicks the back of your seat, "Still not funny."

"We're not kidding!" You snap.

"Nope." Dave shakes his head.

"The fuck do you mean?"

"Nope."

"Look, Dave. You don't." Dirk growls under his breath, frowning slightly, "This isn't because you have feelings for John, is it?" He asks. Dave, without so much as a beat of a pause, snorts so hard you think he starts choking on his own snot.

After taking a moment to recover, Dave wipes his eyes, and shakes his head, "Fucking, wow, no, sometimes he makes my ochinchin feel weird but yeah, no, no feelings for John." Dave snorts again, "I actually find the idea of a relationship with him pretty fucking repugnant yo, it's like I think I'd rather marry Dane Cook, he'd probably treat me nicer," you are MAYBE JUST A LITTLE SLIGHTLY offended, seeing as how you're totally fucking out of his league, and he'd be lucky to date you! He'd even be lucky to date that weird stuffed version of you post-scratch Nana had - he'd be lucky to lick old-stuffed-you's boots! That fuck, that rude, little fuck!!!

Scandalised you practically claw your way over the seat, "Yeah well, I think I'd rather date Richard Nixon's corpse than put up with your unbearable whiny, self loathing, pretentious artistic bull!"

Dave flicks you. Dave fucking... Leans forward and flicks you with his dirty gross hobo nails. So you slap his hand. So he slaps yours.   
And in a matter of moments you are just knelt on the passenger's seat, leaning over to slap at Dave like a furious kitten. At no point does it occur to you that this is stupid. This is a fight for your honour! He compared you to Dane fucking Cook, and you know for a fact Dave despises Dane Cook, despises him even more than you do. Fuck Dane Cook!

After a couple of minutes, apparently realising you are not kidding, Dirk sticks and arm between you.

"Hey, hey, _hey_! For fuck's sake! Quit it, I'm gonna crash the damn truck!" He hisses, "John sit your fat ass down, seriously!" You take an elbow to the side, so you sit down, panting and pouting like a toddler.

"My ass is _not_ fat!" You say, petulantly kicking at the glove box. 

"I know, I love it." Dirk pats your knee, before returning his hand to the gear stick.

"You're damn right you do!"

"Are we done acting like babies?"

"John was fucking harsh," Dave points at you and just... doesn't stop! You'd tell him to stop pointing at you unless he figured he was going to do something with that finger, but something tells you that that would be way too shitty a joke for some reason. 

"You said you'd rather marry Dane Cook!" You protest. Dave holds up four fingers then, utilising his pointing hand, and counts off each insult you threw at him before.

"Unbearable, whiny, self loathing and pretentious."

You turn around to smack at his hand again, " _Dane. Cook._ " you hiss.

"Okay fine, I'd rather marry Conan O'Brian. There, is that better?" He snatches his hand away from you, and mirrors your pout. Asshole, that's your pout, it's practically patented.

"Marginally. But he's still really weird looking, so I'm pretty offended!" You sit back down properly again. Dave kicks your seat.

"Good," he says.

"Fine!" you sigh, "Douche bag."

"Assbaka." Dave kicks your chair again.

Dirk clicks his tongue like an old mother hen, "I can't believe this is a conversation I'm hearing, I can't believe this is a conversation being had by two twenty three year olds."

"I'm twenty four," Dave mumbles.

"Whatever."

*

You and Dave are still bickering as you step through the door, but at least you're not slapping each other anymore. It kind of only just occurred to you how drunk you actually are. Not as drunk as Dave, but yeah, drunk enough to start slapping your friend because he'd rather marry Dane Cook.

Dirk pulls Dave over to the couch by his sleeve, and sits him down on the futon. He lowers himself to Dave's sitting height, and begins to speak in a rather patronising tone: "Me and John are dating, okay Dave?" He says.

"There's just... No way." Dave says, folding his arms. You take a seat at the kitchen table, feeling pretty damn annoyed with all this Dave bullshit. You're totally revoking any hug privileges he might have had.

"Please Dave, explain to me why this is such an unfathomable turn of events?" Dirk asks, his voice commanding and all adulty, and fatherly and weirdly hot actually, is that creepy of you to think? Dirk's parenting voice being hot? That's weird, isn't it? That's weird, you're weird. 

"I just... I know the two of you better than anyone in the whole world. And I'm just saying, it ain't happening." Dave says. Bro sits back on his butt, and Dave almost kicks him uncrossing his legs.   
"There's no fucking way John'd be prepared to babysit you, and put up with all your stupid puppet shit, and I just don't think you'd be dumb enough to even bother going out with someone who's younger than your own fucking kid. Plus like... It's been forever since you had a relationship and John's an asshole, and, even though you make like Mr fucking Toughy McTough, you need someone who's going to be nice to you and not accidentally trample all over your stupid feelings. Also, did I mention John is younger than me? And he doesn't even like guys, you wouldn't date someone who'd clearly just had a sexual heel face turn, 'cause you know you'd be paranoid all the time, and I just don't think either of you would make yourselves miserable like that."

Dave finishes, and looks at you both like he's finally beaten you or something.

"... Wow." Says Dirk. His voice is too flat. Like his voice is always flat, but there it's just. It's too flat.

"Yeah, like. Wow." You add. And Dirk's shoulders are sagging. You've lived with him long enough to know a sad Dirk when you see one, so you try not to just launch yourself across the room, as you go to sit down next to him.

"I don't know what you're like-wowing at, that was way fucking worse on me." Dirk mumbles. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and glare at Dave like you've never fucking glared before. Dave flicks his hair out of his eyes.

"So yeah, you guys are busted and you have been since day one, 'cause neither of you are stupid enough to start dating each other." It's about another three seconds of you glaring at Dave with your arm around Dirk before the penny drops. It drops so hard you actually think you hear it clatter on the inside of Dave's skull, "Oh my fucking God, you're actually dating, aren't you?" Dave says. 

"Yep." Dirk grunts. Oh you just glare. You glare and glare and glare! Oh you're tempted to shake your fist at him, that's how pissed you are!

"Oh my fucking God." Dave springs to his feet, hands clasped to his face. "Wow, Christ. Fuck. Okay." He garbles something incoherent into his hands.

"Dave, calm down." You say. Dave crushes his shades as tightly to his face as they'll go, while Dirk removes his, giving his eyes a weary rub.

"I can't calm down I'm a horrible person!" Dave squawks, "I'm so sorry but Jesus okay, ew ew ew, um. Ew." He starts... jumping up and down on the spot, "Bro, John is younger than me, he's literally younger than your own child God you are such a fucking creeper, you are the worst and John!" H stops jumping, landing heavily and then spins a few times, "John that's my Bro, my fucking Bro you just. Ew!" His hands are flapping wildly now, "Ew! I'm sorry I said all of those shitty things but wow guys, what the fuck!?" Then he like... jogs around a little, "You're my best friend and you're my Bro and this is just not supposed to happen!"   
You have no idea what he steps on, or if Dirk has like a remote or something, but the door to the loft flies open, and a gargantuan pile of smuppets comes raining down upon Dave, like some kind of puppet-asspocalypse.

Dave stops dead, clearly utterly horrified.

After a moment of incredibly tense silence, where you're not sure if you're going to laugh, or if Dave is going to scream, Dirk pipes up.

"Dave, do you want to go up on the roof and scream?" He asks. Dave tumbles out of the smuppet pile nodding, till he reaches the front door, slamming it shut behind him. Dirk shakes his head, "And the Oscar for worst reaction goes to..."

You blink, "We broke him," You say, because you have, you've busted Dave, you've smashed his fragile psyche like it was a delicate china plate.

"Yep."

"He's going to be like that for weeks."

"Yep." Dirk, breath seems a little shaky and once Dave is feeling better you're going to kick him in the crotch. You scoot in front of Dirk, arms open, and his mouth is pursed and twisted. 

"Hey, Dirk, c'mere." You say, and he flops into your arms, head against your chest. You knock his cap off, and scritch his scalp gently, threading your fingers into his hair (which is admittedly thinning, but you're not going to bring that up now, that's be tactless even for you!) "I don't think you're a creeper," you say, "Okay, well that's a lie, I do, but I find it endearing." Dirk sighs heavily, so you take his wrist, and sit up on your knees, so you can put his hand on your butt. He gives it a lack lustre squeeze. "Better?" you ask.

"I'm fine, I haven't got any feelings." Dirk mumbles. "Your phone is vibrating off the hook, by the way."

So it is. You open your phone to find a string of red text. Whoopdeedo.

TG: im really fucking sorry im being an asshole  
TG: AAAAARGH THOUGH HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME   
TG: okay no im really sorry i dont mean it im glad youre happy  
TG: im sure youre great together  
TG: EXCEPT YOU WONT BE AND YOURE GONNA BREAK UP AND THEN WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO  
TG: DID YOU THINK ABOUT ME AT ALL LIKE HOW FAR WEDGED IN THE MIDDLE I AM HERE UUUURGH AND JESUS JOHN THATS MY BRO HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF I SLEPT WITH YOUR DAD HUH  
TG: okay i didnt mean any of that youre both special people in my life EXCEPT I DID MEAN IT AND EW EW EW no iokeulasdjwhilfd  
TG: IDEHWIigd8G8g!!!iuHJJJjjjjjjjjjjjjjjhidkwldn  
TG: shitting dick nipples i am living on the roof tonight you leave me alone you aaaaaaaaAAAAAAHHEFUIRHFRNK

"Dave says he's going to live on the roof." You grunt, switching your phone off and chucking it into the smuppet pile. If you listen closely, you think you can actually hear him screaming.

"Oh man, I just didn't think he'd act like this. Raised that kid better, man." Dirk grumbles. He starts setting the futon up, and you... Well you jump into the smuppet pile because it looks soft and you're literally five years old.

"I just... I think he's jealous, you know? He's never really had to share me before, and he's really never had to share you, like ever." You are philosophical in the smuppet pile. "Like... I dunno, I'm probably way off base here and shit, but he like... hero worships you. Well, he used to, he relised how lam you were after you died, but yeah. You're his Dad and I'm his best friend and I'm sleeping with you, so naturally he's up there shitting himself." You are very philosophical in the smuppet pile. Maybe that's why trolls did all the piling shit! "I was a little huffy when I found out Dad was marrying Mom, so. I just think it happens." You shrug. Dirk has the futon set up, and drags the covers out from the corner of the room. In that moment you think about how fucking much you miss sleeping on a real bed.

"I know I just... I guess I'm surprised at this coming from him, but... Yeah. Shit. Kid's got feelings, can't be helped." He dumps the comforter and pillows unceremoniously on the futon, and pulls off his shirt. He hasn't shaved his chest in a couple of weeks, and he's gone all fuzzy. You smile. Smile at the fuzz. Maybe if he keeps growing it you can have like, matching chest hair. 

"You should have beaten those out of him." You say. Dirk laughs.

"I tried." He laments. You hop up out of the pile and wrap your arms around him, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

"And God loves a trier." You say. "See what I did there. Because I'm God."

Dirk relaxes back into you, and you unbutton his jeans for him. Not in a sexy way, he's clearly sleepy. "Let's just go to bed." He says.

"Shouldn't we get Dave?"

"Nah, he'll tucker himself out eventually." Dirk yawns, then shrugs you away, taking a moment to smell himself which is a really attractive thing to do. "Gross. I'm gonna hop in the shower... Oh, can you check the machine? I missed a call when I came to pick you up."

"Sure!" You say. Dirk makes his way into the bathroom, and you play the message on the phone.   
You do not expect to hear your boss' voice.

"Hello, John, this is Mrs Sharp. I'm sorry to be calling you so late, but this is about Mrs Lafayette? The woman you're subbing for? I'm sure you remembered of course but... Well, hey family just called me, and they fear she might not be... Long for this world... Obviously this is very unusual, but, seeing as how the parents have been so impressed with you, we're very seriously considering giving you her job, should she pass away... If you could call me back in the afternoon, I'd appreciate it, so we can tentatively discuss your potential new salary, and so on. Goodbye!"

You grin, and delete the message.

Dirk doesn't have to find out till you know for certain, but you grin, and punch the air. NO AWKWARD RELATIONSHIP TALKS FOR YOU - HAHAHAH!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I've been writing a bunch of porn short-ish fics again that I probably won't put up here, so if that takes your fancy mosey on over here
> 
> http://bluethallium.tumblr.com/tagged/tiny+porn+requests


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and END UNANNOUNCED HIATUS   
> shut up this is a long chapter okay

"Hey, John?" Dirk nudges you awake. The air is hazy with the smell of smoke, and as much as you protest the habit, it's a warm and comforting smell to wake up to. You remember that you have Dad's pipe tucked up in your sylladex, and figure you might try it sometimes.

"Huh?" You grunt. Cigarettes don't smell as nice as pipes. They're cheaper, and they irritate your nose. But you guess you like that. You can keep the smells in separate spheres. Pipe smoke is your Dad, and cigarette smoke is your Dirk.

"Why don't you do windy stuff anymore?" he asks. You roll over from your side to your stomach. He's lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with the cigarette dangling from his lips, and an ashtray lying on his chest.

"I kind of can't," you rub your eyes. "Well, I can, I just don't control it as well as I used to. They're really patchy, and it's a little dangerous," Dirk takes a contemplative drag of his cigarette, you drop your chin onto the pillow and wish you'd slept with socks on last night.   
"It's like that with all of us, man. We had to ban Dave from using his. I dunno if he ever told you, but one time in high school, he time travelled for a history paper and got us all stuck in 1972 for a week. He distracted the police that were supposed to arrest some guys and boom, Dave accidentally covered up the Watergate scandal."

"What's the Watergate scandal?" Dirk asks. He crushes his cigarette and you snort at him.

"Exactly," maybe you should have fixed that one, huh. But you figured you might have made stuff worse, like in Back to the Future part II. "I think it's more to do with my age than anything. It gets harder and harder the older I get." You sigh. 

Dirk smirks, "Does it now." so you click your tongue and hit him.

"Why'd you ask?"

"I figured if Dave was still screaming on the roof, then you could like, dangle him in mid air till he agreed to stop being a baby." Ah. Yes. Dave. You'd almost forgotten about that.

"I only use my powers for good, not so I can be like windy Michael Jackson or something," you yawn, and get hit with a waft of your own foul, post-booze breath. Your mouth is so dry that your tongue clicks when you speak, and before you have to demand Dirk get up and get you a drink, he is on his feet and heading to the kitchen.  
You ask any way. The man's not a mind reader... Probably.

"That joke was a little... 2002," he sneers. You note that he slept in his soft sweat pants last night, which is a little strange for him. You've gotten so used to waking up to an eyeful of cock and balls every morning, the sudden appearance of jammies are really shocking, it's like you've seen a rare and beautiful snake.

Or, rather you've seen a rare and beautiful snake wearing like a jacket or something. 

"I've been awake for like five minutes, fuck you, your comebacks would suck too," you grumble. "I think I heard him come in last night, anyway."

"Good, I'm glad I didn't put pants on for nothin'," he says, snapping the waistband of his sweats, He drums his hands on the kitchen counter, "What'd you want to drink, apple juice? Orange soda? Water? Beer? I could pee in a cup for you?"

"Water's fine, you big gross monkey," you say. He clicks his tongue and starts running the tap, apparently waiting for the water to get cold for you. 

"Majestic silverback gorilla." He abandons the tap, and takes a bottle of soda from the fridge, and drinks like a man dying of thirst. 

"I don't know how you can drink that crap so early in the morning."

"It's delicious," he says, pausing for breath, before taking another swig and replacing the bottle. "Plus, I'm hooked as fuck on the additives. It's my own personal brand of heroin. I could drink it all day." He finally gets you your water - carefully rinsing out the glass - and returns to the futon, sitting cross legged at your feet. "Imagine if you jizzed orange soda, John. I'd never leave your dick's side."

You roll your eyes and spill a little water down yourself as you drink. "The thought of jizzing orange soda is so vile that I can't even begin to respond,"

"You'd love it. I'd be constantly suckling at your weewee like a baby at a teet."

"Please don't call my dick a weewee," you revise that statement. "Or say teet again. It's more important that you never say teet again."

"Teet," he says.

"No."

He leans in close and fucking licks your ear! " _Teet._ "

"Get away from me!" You smash a palm into his face and he just licks your hand ugh your boyfriend is so disgusting you should probably make out with him.

Before makeouts can ensue, a rather pinched, blank faced Dave bangs through the door, straight through the living room, and into the bathroom.

You hear loud peeing.

"So Dave didn't come in last night," Dirk sighs, "You're hearing shit." 

"Should we let him be, or talk to him?" You ask. Dave bangs back through the bathroom door before you can. You say, "Hello Dave," but he talks over you with what you can only assume is a pre-prepared statement. 

"Okay. You know, I stood outside the door there and heard all of that orange soda crap, and when I think about it, you two have obviously got a really nice thing going, so I'm sorry for being a dick, and also I really wrecked up the roof," Dave mutters. Well, more so than usual. You look over at Dirk, who is pulling on his shades, and frowning slightly. 

Now, you've never really been on the roof properly. The roof feels like Dirk's temple. It's where he goes to smoke and wave around phallic objects, and you've respected that. God only knows he might need the roof to get a break from you sometimes. 

You kind of doubt that though, because... well, why would Dirk want to have a break from you? You're like. His little pudding pop. Or whatever.

"What?" Dirk says, very slowly. Like it's kind of impressive how threatening he manages to make a single syllable. Dave takes a visibly defiant stance, which suggests he's probably crapping his pants right about now.

"I was really surprised, and I'm not used to sharing either of you, especially not Bro, and especially not with each other, so I'm sorry for acting immature and putting several holes in the roof and damaging some of your training equipment." Dirk stands, stretching out to his full height, and folds his arms over his chest, Dave takes a step back. It's like watching a chess game, and the only pieces left are the knight and the queen.  
See, it's funny because Dave is the Knight of Time and Dirk is a queen.

You're really just not _on_ at this time of the morning.

Dave snickers, "Kind of sad that you had to buy that crap because I'm not here to play with you, I mean jeez, I bet watching you stab that dummy must be like watching John play swingball by himself."

"I love swingball," you mumble. You have no idea why you felt the need to do so. Had he been in a better mood, Dirk would have probably made a joke about you swinging his balls. Or something. It's early.

"Basically, you smashed my stuff, realised you were being a little bitch and prepared an apology so I wouldn't kill you for damaging property," Dirk hisses. Gosh, you really hope the emasculating swears are a recent addition to Dirk's parenting, because if this was the way he talked to Dave while he was growing up, it's no wonder he has so many issues.  
You doubt it though. Maybe. 

"No, I'm genuinely sorry," Dave says flatly. You didn't even believe that.

"You little shit, to think I put pants on for you, you ungrateful fucker!" Dirk stomps over to the door and flings it open, pointing to the stairwell. "Get on the roof!" he orders. Dave groans.

"But I'm hung over!"

"I don't care it's sword fight o'clock, we're sparring right now so I don't strangle you, it's time to d-d-d-duel."

Dave stands his ground. "No!"

"We're doing it," Dirk says, opening the door even wider.

"We're not. Because we could have an accident and fuck up my hands, and then my career would be over."

"You can paint with your feet." With that, Dirk marches over to Dave and grabs him by the collar of his shirt. Dave, apparently resigned to his fate, suddenly twists his neck and bites Dirk square on the arm. Dirk lets go of him, shakes him off, and stands there in silent disbelief. "Did you just fucking bite me?" he asks.

"Maybe."

And then they're off. Letting out an incensed growl, Dirk pulls a sword from his specibus, while Dave makes a beeline for the fire escape, gracefully throwing himself out of the window, before Dirk follows. 

You feel like maybe you should go and stop them or something? But honestly, you kind of get the feeling you're not needed there. This is a fight to be had between stupid anime ninjas, and you are simply a grade school teacher. 

You might well be a grade school teacher with magical powers and enchanted hammers, but a grade school teacher you are nonetheless.

With how busy you've been over the Christmas period, it's actually kind of nice to be alone for a little while. Granted this isn't how you expected to spend your morning with Dirk on New Year's Eve, but... Oh well. At least it's quiet.  
You can watch some TV without Dirk complaining. Hell, you could even jerk off if you wanted.

You're probably just going to go back to sleep though.

*

Dirk and Dave stumble back through the door at about 2 PM, carrying a case of beer each, McDonalds bags precariously balanced on top.

You swear to God fast food is magnetically attracted to Dirk.

"We made up," Dirk announces. His lip is split, Dave's shirt is torn and he appears to be limping on his left leg slightly. Apart from that, not a scratch on either of them.

"No shit," you grunt. You've just woken up. Truth be told you were just about to masturbate, so you guess your plans are ruined. 

"We decided to stop fighting and talked about our feelings," Dirk says. Dave nods.

"It was hella gay." Beer is set down on the kitchen counter, and Dave and Dirk position themselves at the table. 

"We decided Dave was being a big fucking baby,"

"And that maybe Bro should have warned me that he wanted to hit on my best friend."

"And then we bought beer,"

"And lunch. Not for you though, just for us." 

You're about to just go fucking. Ape shit, like fucking. Wow. How fucking dare they go to McDonalds and not even get you a burger, those fucks. 

But Dirk laughs and throws you a happy meal. They got you the girl's toy. Well joke's on them because girl toys are Disney themed, and you got Tiana. Tiana is the shit. You're gonna totes put her in the toy box in the classroom, because Tiana is a good fucking role model.

While you've been contemplating your tiny plastic Tiana, Dave has thrown a fry at you. Sucks for him, because now he's one fry down and you're one fry up. 

"Heads up Egbert, Strider New Year tradition is that we take all the fireworks out of the dishwasher and set them off on the roof, so that's what we're doing tonight," he says. You curl your lip.

"Wee." You wanted to go to a nice bar.

"We're still gonna go to like, a nice bar or something, we're just going to blow stuff up first," Dirk says. 

Get out of my head, you think, loudly. Dirk winks.

He's such a creepy motherfucker. He's probably full of evil puppet juju or something. Or he sold his soul to Lil Cal to get mind reading porn powers.

*

The fireworks take a while to clean out of the dishwasher, and you are surprised by how many Dirk has managed to accumulate over the course of the last year. You secretly hope you'll manage to stop this tradition. You're just really sick of hand washing dishes.

A pile of fifty-something fireworks sits in front of you on the table, and being that it's five pm already, you doubt you're going to be going anywhere but the roof tonight.

You move up to the roof, beer, explosives and deck chairs in tow at around six, and you mostly take a back seat while Dave and Dirk busy themselves picking out which fireworks they're going to set off first.

Dave didn't actually wreck up the roof too badly. Sure, there are an assload of holes that he's going to be paying for, but other than that, it seems pretty okay. That being said, you haven't seen Dirk's equipment yet and there are quite a lot of mutilated smuppet parts hanging around. All in all, it could be way worse

It's warm enough that you only need a sweater, and you're quite comfortable on your deck chair, watching the Striders bicker about fireworks.

You can't help but feel like you're intruding on this a little. Even after the game, when they'd come for Christmas, they always left before New Year's. You find yourself wondering if this is a particularly special holiday for them or something. It was never a big deal in your house, really. You and Dad would mostly watch the TV. Maybe you'd go out for dinner first. Millennium year it was his turn to host the office party, you only remember being pissed off because you couldn't sleep, and Dad promising he'd get everyone to quiet down for you. They didn't, but you fell asleep any way.   
After Mom and Rose moved in, New Year got a lot funner, and became an extension of your Christmas celebrations. New Year's 2013 was the first time you really got drunk, thanks Mom tipping champagne down your throat all evening, and you welcomed 2014 in with crying and projectile vomiting, while Rose laughed and your Dad fussed. 

You're brought out of your train of thought by Dirk, snapping his fingers in front of your face, and asking if you remembered to grab his jacket for him. You picked up the hoodie he stole from your house, and chuck it from your sylladex into his chest. He makes a show of smelling it ("Oh, gross!" you comment) and he tugs it on, choosing to plant his ass on the deckchair next to you. 

Dave, meanwhile, is rolling up the sleeves of his jacket and dragging over this busted up little plant pot that's obviously been sat out on the roof since last New Year's eve. He plants a firework down in the dirt and appears to search round, before grabbing his lighter.

"Don't you wanna light that at arm's length, dumb ass?" you yell. But Dave pays no heed, clearly having no respect for fire safety. He clumsily lights the little rocket before him, and flash steps over to the deckchairs, admiring his handiwork with folded arms and a little smirk.

"Arm's length, fuck arm's length man," he mumbles. The little rocket fizzes and pops, and launches itself into the air with a little line of sparks. It explodes a moment later, with a teeny blue burst of light.

"Well that was pathetic," you snort. Dirk shakes his head, and grabs a couple of beers from the case. 

"We like to start with the shitty ones, and work our way up to the good ones," he tells you, gnawing a bottle open. Christ, you have a bottle opener. On your keys. Because you're always prepared. 

"Get with the programme, Egbert," Dave sneers. You snatch the second beer from Dirk's hands, and open it before he can damage his teeth any further. 

You sit through like, three hours of fucking shitty little fireworks and you're drunk enough that you've stopped caring, treating each shitty crappy shitwork to a sarcastic round of applause. Your hands are really stinging but it is totally worth it.  
Do you think Dave would pee his little baby pants if you went to sit on Dirk, or is he too absorbed in fireworks. Christ, he's barely even had a drink. That boy loves to blow things up.

You really want to tell Dirk about the news you got yesterday, but you think you're going to wait until the lady you're replacing is definitely dead. Which is totally going to be soon, because she's old as balls, and you're really confident that she's going to die.  
Not that you want that to happen for the sake of avoiding a little conflict with Dirk, obviously, but it sure would make your life easier if she'd just... you know...  
Hurry up and die...

But here you are, wishing death on an elderly woman when what you really should be doing is verbally abusing Dave, and being openly affectionate with his brofather. 

You clamber out of your seat, head spinning - beer slopping, and stumble over to Dirk. You mean to fall gracefully next to him, so you can squish up and snuggle, but you kind of just end up ass first across his lap.  
He doesn't complain though, past an initial "Ow my fucking legs".

You plant a kiss on his whiskery cheek, and he pulls you closer to him, shifting your weight so your butt's on the chair rather than his legs. 

"Why are all of these fireworks so awful?" you ask. Dirk shrugs.

"I like to stockpile the worst ones I can find."

"They're all shitty?"

"Yeah, pretty much. If there's a good one in there I picked it up by accident."

"That is so stupid," you sigh, nuzzling his sideburns. They're getting a little out of control at the moment, borderline mutton chops. At least they're soft - not itchy like that stupid beard he'll occasionally insist on growing. 

"You're stupid," he replies, weakly reaching up and flicking your ear lobe. "Do you still want to go out tonight?"

"Nah, I'm good." You have given in to laziness and good company. Your body feels beer heavy, and you doubt you'll be able to move from Dirk's lap for a while.

"Cool," says Dirk. "We can go somewhere nice once Dave's gone. Before you go back to work."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll wear fucking. Big boy pants and shoes and everything."

"Gosh." It'd be like Christmas come late. Or incredibly early. "And you'll ditch the cap and the shades?"

"Sure. Might even replace the cap with a fancy fedora."

You snort. "No, for the love of God don't. Those are for assholes and my father. That's it."

"I _am_ an asshole."

Well, he's certainly got you there.

"You just want to hide that little _thin_ spot you're getting."

"You noticed that."

"Well yeah, I have eyes."

"It's so not that bad." Dirk pats the top of his cap self consciously. You kiss his cheek again, sniggering.

"Sure it's not."

"You little prick." He flicks your ear lobe again. The sound of Dave's too-tight shoes slap against the roof, and his arrival is followed by a small explosion, which you don't bother to watch.

"Hey, hey is it firework fun time, or make out and make Dave feel weird time, because I'm pretty sure it's still firework fun time," whines Dave, tapping the invisible watch on his wrist. 

Dirk grumbles, and shoves your legs away. "Dave, why don't you sit your ass down for a while, and I'll take over. Have a drink, talk to John, I'll blow stuff up." He opens another bottle with his teeth, and thrusts it at Dave, who has no choice but to take it. Dave quickly sets the bottle down.

"So. You and Bro," he says, twitching his shades. It's too dark for those.

"Me and Dirk."

"You using his real name and everything."

"Yup."

"So it's... serious?" Dave asks. You swallow. Because. You think it's serious? Like well. It definitely seems pretty serious, you guess. 

"Uh. I guess. I mean. Well. We're." You shrug. "Yeah, it's pretty serious."

"Good, 'cause he's got it pretty fucking bad," Dave snorts. His face is oddly inscrutable, lips pursed, voice a tad tight. "Like, I'm assuming you've talked and stuff 'cause like. Wow. Boy howdy does he wow."

"Boy howdy?"

"I'm sorry, I just haven't really seen him express such positive emotion for something that wasn't a puppet's ass in years." Then he smiles. Really smiles, and holds a fist up for you to bump. 

"So... We cool?" You ask. Dave's smile does fall a little, then.

"We're cool. I just wish someone would've told me. It's weird," he says, "Just don't fuck it up."

"I won't."

"Treat him nice."

"I totally do."

"Don't decide you're one thousand percent straight in a couple of months and leave him high and dry."

"Pff, I think that ship sailed a while ago." You are still quite confident you're straight. You could confidently say you still prefer sex with women, you just... Like sex with Dirk a whole lot more. You guess he's an exception to the rule. And you're good with that. Obviously you are, you let him do stuff to your butt.

"Yeah, he told me your Dad walked in on you doing the whole anal."

Walked in on. You'd have loved to have been just... Walked in on. 

"Actually he kicked the door down."

"Wow."

"He thought I slipped in the shower."

"Damn."

"Yep."

"Well," Dave says, rather pensive, "I'm never going to let you live that down."

"I wouldn't expect any less."

After another hour or so of increasingly shitty fireworks, Dirk runs over brandishing his phone, and the time reads 23:58.

Dirk and Dave grab their respective drinks and high tail it to the north side of the building, and you follow, while Dave fiddles around with his phone to get a proper countdown to midnight. 

Curious as to why you've all run to the side of the building, you sit back and watch as Dirk and Dave hang over the side and scream the numbers down from thirty. You join in on ten, and at zero, you hear a faint cheer ring out over the city, before Dirk plants a quick kiss on your lips, and begins, along with Dave a version of Auld Lang Syne. Dirk beatboxes, Dave raps, they both empty their drinks over the edge, despite safety issues, and what you're sure is the protest of a drunken passerby.

Once they're finished, you ask them what the fuck that was all about.

The screaming is just for shits and giggles, and the beer thing was them tipping a 40 on the curb for their fallen homey: the year of our lord 2019.

You can spend New Year's at your Dad's next year.

"I think I'm going to turn in for the night," grunts Dave, after dropping his beer bottle. Littering and creating a massive health hazard. Great.

"You're kidding!" Dirk whines. Dave attempts to leave, but finds his path blocked by a very swift Dirk. He pulls Dave into a headlock, and gives him a slightly vicious looking noogie. "No one gets away that easy on New Year's Eve." 

"But I'm hung over and I didn't sleep last night and I'm jet lagged and I think I might die or at least throw up on you," Dave grunts, flailing pathetically. 

"Fair enough." Dirk releases him with something of a pout, and kicks him right on the butt as he leaves, yelling "G'night buddy!" and "Happy New Year!"

"Same to you two," Dave replies, giving a quick wave, and moving sluggishly to the door. 

Dave is gone for all of five seconds before you turn to Dirk with a grin. "So, I figure we're alone on a roof. "

"Wanna christen the new decade?"

"Boy, do I," you say, allowing a tiny giggle to escape from you. You've never done it outside before! How exciting! Dirk smiles too, and turns away from you? Okay.

"So I do actually have a couple of really good fireworks in there, so if you-"

You catch him by the hood, and pull him close. "I didn't mean with fireworks... Well, maybe metaphorical ones."

"Oh!" Dirk appears to laugh at himself. He scoops you up into his arms, with a few grunts, groans and swears, staggering and almost dropping you. To be fair you do weigh like a hundred and seventy pounds, and he is drunk. You'd tell him to give over and put you down, but you don't want to wound his pride.

He drops you on the deck chair, then complains about an ache in his back before settling over you. Your hands are quick to his flies, and you are by no means shocked by his distinct lack of underwear. You touch him gently, then with a little more... gusto. And you get nothing. You're just lying there with a handful of flaccid peen and what seems to be a rather embarrassed Dirk.

"What, is it like... Too cold for you or something?" You ask. Dirk sighs heavily, and knocks your hand away.

"Whiskey dick," he mumbles, fastening his fly. 

"You were drinking beer!"

"Beer dick."

"Jesus Christ," you grunt. So much for christening the new decade, happy abstinent new year.

Dirk huffs, and starts on the flies of your jeans, "Hey, we're not all fucking... Boner machines. Your boner is unusually spritely John, you're a freak, it's not my fault you're a freak." He smirks when he finds you at half mast (well, he smells nice and you like being carried!) and his hands are quick to grasp you. You settle back into the deckchair, eyes sliding shut, smiling, feeling utterly content.  
"We still need to have a talk."

Or not. 

"Now? Now, you're doing this now?" 

"Just reminding you." oh and ow, okay, that sentence is accompanied by an unnecessarily hard squeeze that actually hurts a little!

"Hey, you know that old lady is basically dead. The one I'm replacing. And the principal wants to give me her job, at least for the rest of the year." Do you like talking about half dead old ladies in the middle of hand jobs? No. But are you talking about half dead old ladies mid hand job for Dirk's benefit? Yes, yes you are.  
The things you do for that man. He just doesn't appreciate you. 

"Huh," he says. He goes to talk again, but no. Now is a time for kisses, which he will receive and be thankful for. He pulls away after a moment (ungrateful swine) and says, "So you figure we don't need to talk, now?"

"I think we can postpone the talk because we know I'm probably going to be here at least till summer. And by... fuck," you stumble over your words, when Dirk gives your cock a particularly deft touch, and picks up his pace. "By summer, I think we'll be in a less awkwar- oh," and he's sliding down the deckchair, sucking just the head of your cock as you choke out the rest of your sentence. "A less awkward place to talk."

You only last another minute or so (Dirk is awfully good at what he does) before you come. Dirk swallows easily, and damn you love it when he swallows, you really really love it.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he mumbles, squishing back up next to you. 

He wipes off his mouth on your sleeve, and you tuck yourself away, sighing "Jesus, Dirk." He smirks.

"Happy New Year..." he tails off, "Uh."

"What?"

"Nothing, I just felt like some kind of pet name would of been nice there but I got all shy."

"Pet names are cute."

"And stupid, they're also stupid."

"You're stupid." You pout. You'd quite like a cute little pet name from him. Like... Honey, or Sweetheart, or... Gosh, even a baby would be nice. You'd like something normal, and sweet and not related to your ass at all. "You're a horse cock." You snort. Dirk grins.

"You're my little horse cock."

You still feel all warm and fuzzy inside when he calls you oh for fuck's sake "That's our pet name now, isn't it?"

"Yeah, looks that way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I HAD REALLY BAD WRITER'S BLOCK AND I JUST STARTED COLLEGE   
> DON'T   
> PUSH ME I AM  
> CLOSE TO THE EDGE
> 
> no but yeah it's nice to be back i have had a fire lit underneath me I've basically written the next two chapters so
> 
> those'll be out in a few weeks


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BRO AND JOHN GO ON A DATE - PART I
> 
> oh my God, that pesterlog just won't code properly, i will pee

Dave leaves on the third, and you feel like a cock for thinking it, but you're glad to see the back of him.

Things were a little strained, even after you'd gotten it straightened out, and you really think your friendship would benefit from a distance of 5000 miles right now. He's not pissed at you, but he's certainly not happy with you either, and has spent the last few days eyeing you with a mixture of shame and betrayal. He's clearly very embarrassed that he kissed you. He's also clearly quite furious that you entered a relationship with Dirk without first consulting him.

You probably should have had a talk. But honestly, you're in no mood for talks or talk of talks right now, you're sick to death of them. Talks can go screw themselves.

To be honest, even after their weird chase-fight thing, things still seemed very strained between Dirk and Dave, and you think Dirk might privately be quite glad to see Dave go as well. He seems to have gotten too used to having a boyfriend around rather than a brotherson, and you were surprised by how irked he was by little things like having to put on pants in the morning, and not being able to so much as hold your hand without a little show of protest from Dave. 

Dirk doesn't say he's glad Dave is gone when you wave goodbye to him at the airport, and you don't either. Neither of you needs to, really.

You spend most of the drive back in silence, and you are quietly very relieved to have that cramped little apartment back to yourselves. 

Honestly, you don't think Dave is okay with the two of you. You hope if you and Dirk go the distance he comes round to you, and if you don't, you hope he won't hold it against you.

You get stuck in traffic part way home, Dirk turns to you, grinning, and says "So how about that date?"

The dumb thing takes like two weeks for him to organise, and Dirk refuses to tell you a thing about it. He says he made reservations somewhere "Hella classy", and that the dress code is "like a shirt and grown up pants and shiny shoes and shit". Ties are optional (but you opt to wear one. When in doubt, always wear a tie). 

In fact, Dirk's infuriating silence paired with his mountainous post-Christmas work load ("I got orders coming out the wazoo here,") give you an excuse to get out and see the city.

You get lost after five minutes on your first walk, and spend most of the hour it takes you getting back to the apartment wondering what has become of you.  
So you were never the most social person, especially not after Sburb, but you always had friends. And suddenly, your whole stupid world is centred around some middle aged dumb ass with a porn site who is basically your best friend's Dad.

You're not regretful, it's not a negative train of thought per-say, you're just sort of wondering how the fuck this could happen? You kind of feel like you have no friends. Which is pathetic because you do, but. 

Jade is in China and impossible to get hold of. Rose is becoming gradually more busy with moving preparations, and you and Dave are just... Well, you're doing a spectacular job of avoiding each other.

You kind of feel like the only person you have is... Dirk. And then Dirk starts working while you're on vacation and it's like you've got no one.

You feel sort of stupid that you let this happen. 

Your walks always leave you feeling a little conflicted. Maybe you don't want to stay in Houston after all. Maybe you want a break. Maybe you just want to go back home, get on your Dad's couch, and wait till everything feels normal again.

But then you get back to the apartment and Dirk is there. He'll smile when you walk through the door and your knees will turn to jelly, because he doesn't even realise he's smiling for you, and it's the sweetest thing. He'll call you a horse cock, and your heart will skip and bounce.

The night before your big date, you tell him you've been feeling weird and kind of lonely, and part of you expects him to huff at you. But he says that that's fair. Apologises for sucking you into his "crazy Hermit lifestyle thing." 

Maybe it's a little dumb of him to blame himself, when you're naturally not the most social person, you guess you just never expected to get this bad, and you guess that probably is kind of Dirk's fault. 

"There's no reason we can't make an effort to make friends and stuff," you tell him. "The date's a good start!"

It is a good start.

*

TT: So.  
TT: I'm finally in New York.  
EB: how's mom taking it?  
TT: She was very weepy.  
TT: I blame the lack of alcohol and the baby hormones.  
TT: Lately, she's almost like...  
TT: And I'm hesitant to say this...  
TT: A normal woman.  
EB: gaspu.  
TT: I know, it's outrageous, isn't it?  
EB: so how's the apartment?  
TT: * Penthouse.  
TT: Fucking amazing.  
TT: I knew it was worth saving the royalties from the first book.  
TT: To think that I almost wasted it renting that apartment in Seattle to write the second novel in!  
EB: it did look almost exactly like fraiser's apartment though.  
TT: Yes, that is the one downside of this Penthouse.  
TT: Not as Fraiser-esque as the last.  
TT: But that's fine, it's not like I'd know what to do with toss salad and scrambled eggs any way.  
EB: goodnight seattle we love you.  
TT: But any way, it was so worth saving up.  
TT: Look at me John, I own a penthouse in New York City.  
TT: I own it.  
TT: Own it.  
TT: Guess how much rent I'm paying?  
EB: uh.....  
TT: None, because I own it.  
TT: You and Bro should come and stay with me, the next time you have time off work.  
TT: Seeing as how I have four whole bedrooms.  
EB: how much did this place cost you again?  
TT: It doesn't matter.  
TT: I basically used all my money from the first book, but.  
TT: That doesn't matter because I bought it.  
EB: bills though!!!  
TT: Second book should be out in the fall, worst comes to worst I'll loan a little from the bank of Mom and Dad.  
EB: pfff.  
TT: Do you want to see pictures of my amazing beautiful penthouse?  
EB: no, it'll just remind me that dirk basically made me queen of trash mountain over here.  
TT: He has more than enough money to move out, you know.  
EB: i know, i just figure i'll nag him about one thing at a time!!!  
EB: once i get him to start throwing out his trash, then i will approach him about buying us a nice place.  
EB: (plus)  
EB: (use the super secret brackets, rose.)  
TT: (Alrighty.)  
EB: (i feel like if he's buying a new place while i'm living with him)  
EB: (we're buying that place....)  
EB: (TOGETHER!!!!)  
EB: (and that shit is COMMITMENT, you know?)  
TT: (True.)  
TT: (Do you feel that committed?)  
EB: (i guess?)  
EB: (i dunno.)  
EB: (it just seems a little much right now.)  
TT: (I agree.)  
EB: (i'm being tentative, like i think if he asked me i would move in with him but...)  
TT: (Out of obligation and being a love struck little silly more than you thinking it's... actually a good idea.)  
EB: (exactly!!)  
TT: (Fair enough.)  
EB: (but sshhhhh the bad things.)  
EB: we're going on our first real date tonight!!  
TT: Oh, that's nice.  
TT: Where to?  
EB: he won't tell me.  
TT: Have you ever seen Taxi Driver?  
TT: Because I bet it'll be like the date in Taxi Driver.  
EB: i haven't seen taxi driver.  
EB: are you being a dick?  
TT: Kind of.  
TT: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDKaiXRE9cw  
EB: i'm trying to be offended but that does seem like something he would do.  
EB: actually, no!!!! no it doesn't we're being bitches, rose!  
EB: it'll be heartfelt!  
EB: there'll at least be like, candles and stuff before he takes me to the weird swedish porno!  
TT: I'm sure he'll take you dancing before he takes you to the porno.  
EB: it'll be beautiful.  
TT: You won't even have to jerk yourself off in the theatre.   
EB: i'll only cry for twenty minutes.

*

Dirk gets dressed in Dave's room, and as you're hanging out on the sofa, Cal's glassy eyes drilling into your soul, you feel a little like it's prom night.  
Why, you could be eighteen again, perched uncomfortably on Shelly Ng's sofa clutching a corsage, trying not to eyebang her Mom while her Dad tried to find a non-racist way of asking you what ethnicity you were supposed to be.  
God it was horrible, it wasn't like the doctor's surgery where you could simply tick "other" on the form, he was all 'Oh so what kind of an name is Egbert, is that... Jewish or?' and you'd just wanted to scream GOO I'M MADE OF GOO, VAGUELY ASIAN LOOKING GOO in his face, but you couldn't because that would be rude and he was probably just trying to figure out if you were Filipino too so you could bond over Filipino stuff, because to be fair you could easily be Filipino as well as about nine different other things. And you ended up just nodding at every question he asked, until you'd probably made yourself sound like you were every single ethnicity under the sun, because you were concentrating really hard on not staring at Mrs Ng's legs and/or butt.

Shelly looked beautiful and all when she came down the stairs in her dress, but she just... Her mother, you know? She was well aged, like a fine wine. A really sexy fine wine.

God, you're awful.

Anyway, the point is, waiting for Dirk to get ready, that's like prom. It's like you're waiting for your prom date.

He doesn't take as long as you thought he might.

He stumbles out of Dave's room, looking uncomfortable in a pair of proper, actual leather shoes, with no laces or spongy soles or neon colours. Actual shoes. And he's wearing proper dress pants, that are a slim fit. They're dark grey, and just a little metallic. Maybe not what you would have dressed him in, they're too clingy on his claves and his thighs and also his crotch so yeah he basically got a size too small. Like they fit him, they're just. Supposed to be slacks, you know not, hey check out my shapely powerful legs.  
Wow you bet his butt looks great in them. 

Okay never mind the pants fit him great. He'd still worn a big, nasty belt, but it was pretty plain, so you could forgive him that.

He'd even put on a nice shirt. You were having visions, horrible visions, of formal bowling shirts, shiny shirts, flamenco dancer shirts encrusted with sequins and sugar plums. But you were wrong again. The shirt was an off white, nipped him in at that tiny little waist, showed off his arms and his shoulders without being plastered to him like he'd just won a wet t-shirt contest. It's open at the neck, only so you can see the dip in his collar bones, no tacky chest hair or medallion or anything!

He's ditched the shades and the cap, and his hair isn't over gelled or awful, just. Nice and fixed. He even got rid of about 50% of his side burns, and he looks so much younger and cuter without them. 

God your boyfriend is incredibly handsome. So fucking handsome, you feel like you bet Richard Gere in Pretty Woman did when Vivian is all dressed for the opera. You wish you had like a million dollar necklace to give him. It would totally ruin the look but oh, gosh you can see his whole face with no distracting hair or popped collars and he's got those cheek bones and freckles and those eyes and that smile and you bet the second you leave the apartment all eyes are going to be on him.

All those... Eyes. Of other people. People who could well be... A lot better looking than you.

You know what you don't like it, this is wrong, he's too attractive, he doesn't look like a total freak any more he looks like a regular handsome dude which is wrong because Dirk isn't a regular handsome dude he's a freak who wears anime shades who IS NOW CLEARLY OUT OF YOUR FUCKING LEAGUE THIS WAS A HORRIBLE IDEA.

YOU DON'T EVEN LIKE CONVENTIONALLY HOT GUYS, YOU LIKE DIRK, THOSE ARE USUALLY TWO ENTIRELY SEPERATE THINGS.

"Oh my God," you manage. Dirk grins. His teeth could easily sparkle, he makes Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise look like Phillip Seymour Hoffman in Boogie Nights, oh God what have you done, he's a monster, where is your scruffy, borderline-mutton-chopped Kamina? This is not natural. Why did you think this would be a good idea, what is wrong with you?

"I look pretty good, huh," Dirk says smugly. You can't tell him to go get changed, that would be like admitting defeat, especially after you made such a fuss about it. And look at him, he tried so hard for you and you're just here like freaking out because he looks _too_ attractive. One of your exes dumped you on the grounds you were impossible to please, and you know what? You can totally see where she was coming from, you are an asshole. An asshole who wishes Dirk would put his hat back on. And his shades. And grow his sideburns back.

You don't even know why he got rid of those in the first place, you loved those things. They were soft and tickly, he was like a Victorian pussy cat.

"Haha!" You squeak. 

"I was a little... You know, weirded out by this at first, but... Maybe I should dress like this more often, I mean. I bet people would stop openly avoiding me in the street and stuff." Dirk smiles and absently rubs at his oddly smooth face. 

"No! No! I mean, God. We should... Save it for special occasions, you know don't want you to be walking around all... Handsome and... Unrecognisable all the time."

He smirks. "You don't like it, do you?"

"Of course I like it, you look great!"

"You like me better when I'm gross, don't you?"

"No, your taste in clothes is embarrassing as hell, and-"

"You like Krabby Patties don't you, Squidward," Bro whispers. 

"No. No one does. No one likes you or your patties, Christ." You're blushing. Oh no, the man you sleep with knows you find him sexually attractive, oh no!!! Dirk kisses you, and ruffles your nicely arranged hair, which was neat and tidy but you guess it's back to incredibly trendy bed head again.

 

"So, where are you taking me?"you ask. Dirk makes a zipping motion over his lip. 

"You're gonna love it, or it's gonna go down like a ton of bricks," he says. He ushers you over to the door, and nibbles your neck while he urges you out of the apartment. "I think it should be suitably romantitacky."

Tacky worries you just a little, but Dirk kind of thinks everything that's sincere is tacky, so maybe it's a good sign. 

He produces a blindfold from his pocket on the elevator ride down, and guides you out of the building, where you hear the low growl of an engine.

The blindfold is off almost as soon as you put it on, and yup.

Yeah, he got you a fucking monster truck. This huge, sparkly red thing with a badly painted Diana Ross motif and the words "Glitter Monster" emblazoned on the side. 

"Did you rent this, oh my god!" you squeak. Okay so maybe it's not the classy shit you wanted but it's so Dirk. And you need something that's totally Dirk right now. Also, monster trucks are fucking awesome.

It's a big gay fucking truck, what's not to like.

"Borrowed it, from a friend, sort of person," Bro says. "They owed me a favour, so we get a fancy car for the night." He gives you a tentative glance, so you beam at him and scrabble to get inside. You declare it awesome, and tell Bro he is the best boyfriend ever. Ever ever.

Once you're safely buckled into the passenger's seat, you're too fucking jazzed to even care if it's legal to drive one of these on the roads. 

"Oh man, check us out, we're hardcore as shit!" you say. Dirk flips on the engine, and you are blasted with the William Tell overture. "Oh fuck no."

"Oh fuck yes. We fancy tonight. We fancy as hell." 

And then he's off. So maybe he's crawling down the road at a snail's pace, but who gives a shit, you're in a fucking monster truck. 

This must be what it feels like to have a gigantic penis.

Dirk eventually pulls over at this really fancy ass place, like some old colonial looking manor house done out as an Asian restaurant. There are fat Buddha statues and bowls of fire placed elegantly outside the grand pink building, and a large ornamental dragon sits by a pond, in a garden of wild flowers. 

"We're here," Dirk says.

Getting out of the Glitter Monster is way easier than getting in, you discover, and you're jst sort of glad you don't scuff your shoes upon landing.

The valet gives you some odd looks as you pass him, Dirk sniggering about how he's all parked up.

Walking into the entrance hall, you're greeted by a small line of prospective restaurant patrons and a grand stair case. A couple ascend the stairs with small bags, and you assume this must be a hotel too.

Oh man, maybe Dirk got you a room.

Oh man. Oh man this place is so fancy, you wonder how many blow jobs you're gonna have to give him till you feel like you've paid him back.

"Oh Gosh, Dirk, this place looks so expensive," you mumble. Dirk joins the line and drags you along with him when your legs stop working. You're staring at this huge crystal chandelier, and actually you know you can kind of see why Dirk said romantitacky because that _is_ a little over the top for your tastes.

"But I have hundreds of thousands in puppet porn money, so..." Dirk shrugs. You flush. When it's your turn, Dirk confidently approaches the hostess and says: "Booking for Strider," like he actually belongs here.

"Ah yes, very good sir, come with me," says the hostess. 

She slips something into Dirk's palm, then leads you to this like, amazing room with all these plants and this bar with tropical fish (again, a little tacky but okay) and big tables and intimate little booths with plush leather seating.

The hostess stops you at a little booth in the corner - candles, a bottle of something on ice, and glasses - snatches up a little reserved sign, pours you both drinks, and leaves.

Soft old blues music tinkles through the air, just loud enough to cover private conversations to listening ears. 

"Is this real champagne?" you ask, taking a sip from your glass. 

Dirk rolls his eyes. "No, it's fizzy pee." 

Real champagne. Real, really expensive tasting champagne. Oh the bubbles burn your tongue but you are drinking this shit up. Oh yes. That is it. That is the taste of rich boyfriend is what that is.

And to think he lives in squalor. To think he eats shitty Chinese food every night when he can afford to eat at like shitting amazing restaurants like this. 

"Wow, okay, that was quick," Dirk comments, delicately sipping his own drink. He twists his face a little. Maybe his pallet can't quite handle actual alcohol. 

"I'm sorry I just, haven't drank Not-a-Beer in months and... Wow!" You pour yourself another glass, and fan your rapidly reddening face. Man it's hot in here. Man, your pants are tight in here.

The waitress brings the menus, and after a moment, Dirk effortlessly selects this incredibly expensive banquet for two. Maybe it was kind of annoying that he ordered for you, but he's so classy and in control and oh my God, you actually have a boner, don't you.

"Maybe," you whisper. To yourself. Shh, just drink more champagne, shh.

"Hmm?"

"Oh nothing," you mumbled, embarrassed. Actually why are you being embarrassed. This is Dirk, he's a kinky bastard, he loves this shit.  
"Dirk, I don't want to sound like a gold digger or anything, but I'm _so_ horny right now." The champagne has gone to your head and penis really quickly on this empty stomach.

Dirk blinks, all confused with his little naked face. You'd like to see some other things naked about him, yes you would.  
"What just from... A little. Cash splashing?" 

"Well. I. You're all handsome and buying me stuff, it's like we're doing some kind of... Sexy role play, where I'm your dirty little secret and you're like this rich, older business man, and it's all forbidden and ah, what if your wife catches us, you know?" You gnaw your lip. You used to pull this shit with your exes all the time, you're kind of surprised you've held off for this long with Dirk.

Isn't that funny, while you were talking your foot fell out of your shoe and is totally rubbing Dirk's thigh under the table cloth.

And, just a little higher and...

There we go.

Boner town.

"Down boy," Dirk splutters. Oh he's all sensible. Maybe he's just playing along but oh my. You rub your toes in slow, steady circles, and sip your champagne.

"I'm sorry! I'm just like. God, this is so..."

"Sticking your foot in my crotch?"

"I can pick up pencils with my toes," you whisper.

*

Dirk manages to pry your foot out of his crotch before the first part of your meal comes. Luckily, the food is so like. WOW. That you totally forget about your dick. That is just how good this food is.

You pester Dirk about what else you're doing tonight, and he makes that lip zipping motion again. Around a mouthful of chicken, he mumbles something about "finally getting to see where I go on a Wednesday."

You hope Wednesday has something to do with having sex in a hotel room right after dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks in advance for any comments and kudoses because you are the light of life
> 
> Edit: I know they're not called Buddha statues but I figure John either doesn't, or Budai wouldn't spring to mind quickly enough while excited about monster trucks, please dont give me an ass load of comments correcting me


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING FOR TWO MONTHS, i've been really busy with college and applying to uni and portfolios and aaaaaaa
> 
> IN OTHER NEWS, [I WROTE A BOOK](http://www.lessthanthreepress.com/books/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=90&products_id=401&zenid=3456b37a7a19b9cd335b426a17abf591)!! [IT'S ALSO AVAILABLE ON AMAZON! ON PAPERBACK!!](http://www.amazon.com/Bite-Your-Tongue-ebook/dp/B00AQB2KAG/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1360367031&sr=8-2&keywords=bite+your+tongue)
> 
> MAYBE IF YOU BOUGHT MY BOOK I WOULD UPDATE MORE, HA HA. I'm just kidding. Or am I??

Turns out Wednesday has shit all to do with having sex in a hotel room right after dinner.

Dirk winks at you when you ask if you have a reservation there for tonight, and refuses to elaborate any further, responding only with increasingly hammy winks.

He pulls you out of the restaurant by your wrist (before you can even look at the desert menu) and has you walking down breezy street on a full stomach. This is very inconsiderate of him. You might get a stitch.

"Where are we going, Dirk?" you whine. You kick a rock in your path. Take that society.

"Like, not very far, just give it five minutes." Dirk is walking slightly ahead of you, and you look over your shoulder before wrapping your arms around his neck. 

"Can I have a piggy back ride?" 

Dirk snorts. "Hell no, you're huge, you'll break me." 

"How come like, two weeks ago I was tiny, but now I wanna piggy back I'm huge?" You put your weight down on his neck in a way that is only a little strangley. He slaps at your arms, and grunts.

"You're bigger than medium sized."

"See, now that's accurate," you jump a little, Dirk makes a choking noise. "But you _are_ huge, so... carry me." 

"Ugh." Luckily, this is an ugh of concession. He bends slightly and spreads his arms wide, you jump on his back, a little too roughly, and Dirk lets out a splutter and a swear. He groans, and walks barely a fraction of the speed he had done before. 

You are kind of a bad person for making him do this. But who cares. Probably Dirk.

"It's like having a sweaty horsey," you mumble, resting your nose in his hair. God it smells all clean instead of like... stale hat sweat.

"Horses are sweaty motherfuckers," Dirk says. Well, grunts. You guess you are pretty heavy.

"Are they?"

"Sweaty, sweaty animals."

"How do you know?"

"I rode horses in like... grade school." He tries to shrug, but fails, "And Middle school," perhaps you will get down soon. "And High school," or perhaps not. "And maybe... Through a lot of my adult life."

"You're that kid who likes horses," you chuckle.

"What?"

"You know how like, every grade at school has at least one kid with a weird thing about horses."

"No?"

You laugh, loudly in his ear,"Of course you don't fucking know, you were that kid."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Duh, we had one too. Her name was Lesley. She liked horses and Kylie Minogue, if we ever had a project to do, she always made it about either horses, or Kylie Minogue."

"Who the fuck is _Kylie Minogue_?"

"And you call yourself a gay man!" you scoff. Dirk gives up then, and drops you. You land on your ass, and you pretend to cry for a minute, before you realise there's a dude across the street staring at you.

Dirk helps you up, doesn't apologise, shakes his head.

"I'm still trying to process the fact that I was the weird horse kid in school." He doesn't let go of your hand after you get up off the floor. Which is nice because you never hold hands. But also, not so nice because you never realised how fucking sweaty he was.  
"Jeez, no wonder no one talked to me," Dirk snorts.

"No one talked to you?"

"Nah, I was a little... I was exactly like this but... Well, you met that sixteen year old alternate universe version of me at the end of the game, what was he like?"

"Uh. A lot like Rose but without the warmth. He sounded pretty manipulative from what AU Nana told me." You chew your lip. You fell out of contact with Alternate Universe Nana and her friends pretty fast after the game. They went back to their universe, you went back to yours. Felt like you were intruding to contact her online.  
"I dunno, he seemed a little damaged if you know what I mean. Not as damaged as AU teen Mom, but. Yeah. Kind of sad. Weird guy. Didn't like him much."

"Yeah. Yeah, imagine that but... Replace cold with... I dunno, pissy?" He shrugs, squeezes your hand. "I was kind of an angry kid."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I was a fucker, man. I was arrogant, I was really controlling and I was just plain fuckin' nasty sometimes." Oh wow, Dirk is opening up. You rub your thumb over the back of his skin on the back of his hand. His hands are shorter than yours, but wider. Warm and kind of moist where yours are cold, and bone dry.  
"I didn't get over myself till I was like... Twenty? When I got Dave. I made Roxy cry and she told me I was a poisonous person, so I figured... Maybe I should simmer down. Even then I was still pretty bad, I mean. Look at Dave, I got a lot of shit to answer for there."

"You sure do," you nod. Dirk scowls, naked without his shades. 

"Oh, gee whiz John, thanks."

"I was kidding!" You weren't, Dirk really did a number on Dave. "Now I'm just kind of enjoying imaging Dirk at fifteen... Dirk, the poisonous horse boy."

"Add braces to that picture," Dirk smiles, flashing a set of teeth that are just that little bit too straight.

"Oh man. Beautiful. Just beautiful."

You walk in the quiet for a while, smiling to yourself at the thought of Dirk at fifteen. Skinny, scowling in a wife beater, sunburnt and running a petulant tongue over the metal covering his teeth.

You should demand to see pictures of Dirk at that age. You should find the worst one and keep it in your wallet. 

Dirk leads you through the streets, past a few nightclubs, down an alley and another street, till you reach what looks like a renovated old theatre. A huge sign declares this to be "the Gilded Lily". There are a few very tall, outlandishly dressed woman-esque looking people smoking outside, and a loud beat seeps out from under the door,

"Is this a drag club?"

"Yup," Dirk says. He sort of smiles, and lets go of your hand, giving you a moment to survey the scene. A large banner declares it "The Best Drag Bar in Texas!", another says "Hosting only the Finest Queens in the South!" 

"Is this where you and Cal do your puppet rap act thing?"

"Yeah. Wednesday is comedy night, I'm like their MC." He directs your eye to a small poster in the window 'Comedy on Wednesdays, with host, BRO', and you feel a little proud. Aww. He's on a poster. "Don't get me wrong, I take the puppet rap scene deadly serious, but other people don't always." 

You snort, and one of the drag queens waves, and begins to totter toward the two of you.

"Bro! Hey, Bro!" He (she? You've never been sure what pronoun you're supposed to use for them when they're actually in drag, you know?) coughs, and brandishes his cigarette. His dress is one of those long, fishtail dealies, and appears to be restricting his movement. Dirk makes an attempt to steer you around him, toward the entrance, but fails.   
"Yeesh, what happened to your face, you look like real people," snickers the drag queen. Closer, and lit by the street lights, the man is... Well, he's really pretty. His makeup is a little OTT, but you guess he is in drag. He looks Asian, older than you, but younger than Dirk.

"I'm on a date, _Karl,_ " snarls Dirk. The drag queen, or Karl, you suppose, slaps Bro square in the chest with petite, elegantly gloved hands. 

"Don't fucking call me Karl when I'm on the clock!" he hisses. Then hits Dirk again for good measure. Dirk recoils, and attempt to slap his hands away. 

"Jesus, hitting!" he protests. Karl then looks you up and down, then gives Dirk the same look, twisting his face.

"Who's your friend? Since when did you go on dates? And shave for them?"

"This is John." 

"I'm his boyfriend." 

"Boyfriend?" Karl snorted. "No offense honey, Bro doesn't exactly... Acknowledge relationships. I thought I was his boyfriend for a while too." He leans in close to you, and gives an exaggerated whisper " _He didn't._ "

"Oh really?" You give Dirk a look. He shrugs.

"Yeah really," Karl says, sending a bitter little look in Dirk's general direction. "Are you Filipino too? 'Cause he always was a fucking rice queen."

"Uh..." 

You have absolutely no idea what a rice queen is.

Dirk puts a defensive hand on your shoulder, and begins steering you toward the entrance. "We're definitely dating Karl. I'm living with him and stuff," Dirk says. You dig your heels in the dirt. Karl raises more questions by the minute.  
When the hell did Dirk date a drag queen? For how long? Why hadn't Dirk mentioned him before? What exactly was a rice queen? Should you just give up and start telling people that you are Filipino?

"Isn't he a little young for you?" Karl totters behind you, catches up by the time you've gotten Dirk to stop pushing you. "What are you, twenty one? Twenty?"

"Twenty three," you say, smiling. Karl snorts, again. He's a very snorty sort of person, apparently.

"Is this why you wanted to borrow the Glitter Monster?" he asks. Dirk balks. 

"That was your monster truck?"

Karl primps his wig, and offers his hand for you to shake. "Sorry I haven't introduced myself - Makati Ponopo, Texas' only monster truck driving drag queen," he says it like you're supposed to recognise him. You don't. 

"Ponopo?"

"His real name is Karl Reyes."

"Ponopo is a version of my mother's maiden name," again, said like you're supposed to _get it_.

"I see." 

There's a beat, and Dirk attempts to direct you to the building again. You give in this time, and Karl calls: "Does he still talk about his brother all the time before, after and sometimes during sex?" after you.

Dirk, mouth puckered like he just licked a lemon, turns back and waves aggressively, "Well, it was nice talking to you Karl, glad you met John and stuff!"

"Honey, I'm just glad you got someone to get you out of the fucking house!" Karl yells back.

Finally, you cross the entrance. Dirk gets a few waves and points as he enters the building. The girl/dude/queen/person at the door comments on his lack of shades, and Dirk shrugs, points at you, and shrugs again, before directing you to a small booth table.

The club is cavernous, almost cathedral-like, decorated heavily with banners and lights. A large stage is currently occupied by a lonely piano and a queen done up like Marilyn Monroe, lip syncing a sultry, slowed down version of Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend.

It's kind of loud, so you have to yell when you speak. "What the hell is a rice queen?"

"It's what a blatant fucking potato queen accuses you of being _all the time_ to make himself feel better."

You blink. "I'll just google it." Dirk shoves a drink menu in your hand, and you are quite certain that he's trying to take your mind off of anything Karl said, and onto more alcohol.   
"Why did you talk about Dave during sex?" you ask. 

"It was like one time!" Dirk snaps, defensive. "Around when Dave's asthma started! I was really worried about him!"

"Pff, one time. I'd be sucking him off and Dave'd start coughing and he'd be all like 'oh man, do you think I should go check on Dave'?" Karl was behind you, hanging over you like a spectre, smirking. In the clearer light of the club, you could see he was clad entirely in a violent shade of purple.

"Dude," you say. Dirk rubs his eyes. 

"Where did you even come from?"

"Outside, I was gonna offer your inappropriately youthful boyfriend a free cocktail for actually managing to get you to admit you're in a relationship with someone."

"Oo!" You clap. Free booze, wee!

"See, he likes me," Karl drapes his arms around your neck, and rests his cheek on your head. You hope he doesn't get makeup in your hair. "What do you want, honey?"

"Uh, a pina colada?" You say, without really looking at the menu.

"Excellent choice." Karl ruffles your hair, and sashays toward the bar.

"He's nice! I like him," you say. Dirk rolls his eyes. "What did you do to him to make him so bitter?"

"He just likes to be a dick now and again. We haven't even been fucking for like... God, it must be over ten years." 

"Yeah, but he obviously thought it was more than that."

"So maybe we were fucking for a while."

"How long is a while?"

"Only like... A year." 

Your jaw drops. So much for mister no relationships, mister "John you're the first person I've been serious about", mister stupid dumb butt liar butt.

"A _year_!"

"A year and sometimes he used to baby sit Dave and also he lived with us for a couple of weeks," says Dirk. Oh if you weren't so full of champagne your strikes would be weak and kittenish, you'd hit him! You just pout instead."What? He got kicked out of his Mom's house! And before you start to sympathise with him, it wasn't for being a homo, it was for being a sponge and still living with his parents when he was fucking twenty and he easily had enough money to move out."

"I lived with Mom and my Dad till I was twenty three! So did Dave! And Rose only moved out last week!"

"Yeah, and it's lame."

"Is not." Oh who are you kidding, it is kind of lame. But you saved the world you can do whatever the fuck you want. "I can't believe you had like a real relationship and made like you never had one!"

"Oh, fuck off, it so doesn't count as a relationship if I didn't know we were in one."

"You were together for a year!"

"Not to my knowledge!"

"Oh my God, you're the worst!" you give him your best disappointed grade school teacher look. 

"In my defence, Karl is really, really annoying," Dirk whines. You look more disappointed. "And it was a long time ago, I've obviously changed a lot!"

"He is much less of a bastard now." Karl reappears with a pina colada. It has a pretty little umbrella and a straw with a sparkly on it! You don't get what the deal is, you would date Karl, he's rad! 

"Thank you, Karl," Dirk says. Karl raises his neatly pencilled eyebrows. "Sorry, _Makati_."

"Good luck with this one, kid," Karl places down your drink and ruffles your hair again. Dirk asks for "the usual" and Karl calls him boring before he leaves again.

"I thought you said you only have like, three friends and they were me, Roxy and Jade," you say, coyly sucking at your straw. 

"Karl isn't my friend."

"It seems kind of like he's your friend."

"No. I'm a lone wolf."

"I'm gonna ask Dave." You pull out your phone.

"I thought you and Dave weren't really talking?"

"I'm bridge building."

EB: hey, dave?   
EB: do you remember a drag queen named karl reyes from your childhood?   
TG: you mean aunt makati   
TG: yeah he used to babysit me all the time hes fucking great he drives a monster truck   
TG: why   
TG: are you talking to him    
TG: tell him i said hi   
EB: he's totally bro's friend isn't he.   
TG: yes duh they used to hang out all the time    
TG: there was like a year when he was barely out of our apartment   
TG: fucking man sized heels and make up everywhere   
TG: why   
TG: is bro still insisting they arent friends   
EB: yes!   
TG: why he gotta be so tsuntsun   
EB: i'll yell at him.   
TG: good   
TG: please dont tell rose i spent my preteen years hanging out with a drag queen shell have a field day   
EB: i promise.   
TG: you dont promise do you   
EB: nah. 

You look up from your phone feeling incredibly smug for some reason.

"Dave says he's your friend."

"I. Okay, you know that friend you have who you hate because they're really annoying?"

"No." Of course you don't. You have literally three friends.

"Well, Karl is that friend."

"And you hate him _so much_ your penis sometimes used to fall into him for a year."

"Hey man that booty ain't got no padding." Dirk gestures to Karl, bent over at the bar and _dear sweet lord that is impressive_.

"Damn."

As you leer at his ex's butt, Dirk snaps his fingers and redirects your attention back to where it should be. His usually smooth and shadesless face.   
"Can we not talk about Karl, I just wanted to take you here because it's like... A special place for me, you know? And I wanted to share it with you. Because I really like it here. I used to be a waiter here when I was like... nineteen? It used to be called the Golden Banana then, but yeah. Same management and stuff. It's great, I used to do public appearances when I got porn famous." 

"So... You used to be a drag queen?" 

"Oh, no. When it was the Golden Banana, they had topless waiters as well as drag queens." 

"Ah." Your boyfriend was like some kind of male Hooters girl. Beautiful. "So... You just wanted to show me what you did on a Wednesday?"

"Yeah. I mean." Dirk clears his throat. "I want you to know more about me. Because I feel like I know everything about you and you know not so much about me."

"So... You brought me to a noisy drag bar to privately let me learn about you."

"Yes. Granted I didn't think Karl worked Fridays anymore." Dirk apparently sees no holes in his logic. Karl slams a tequila beer down on the table. You didn't even see him approach. He is like a drag ninja.

"I don't, I'm covering for Miss Cookie, she's at a bar mitzvah," Karl says. "Here's your usual, I stuck it on your tab. Which I believe NASA are still in the process of calculating."

"You'll never take me alive," Dirk mutters, into the neck of his beer. Karl shakes his head and disappears into the small crowd once again. The music stops, and the queen on stage switches on his mic, announcing that tonight is, in fact, karaoke night. 

You turn to Dirk, grinning. "Duet, or solo."

Man, you love karaoke. You are the boss of karaoke. Karaoke is not graded, but you always win at it. Always. You used to do competitions in college, and you have multiple trophies. That is how great you are. 

"Usually I fly solo, but you know what baby. Let's duet." 

"Isn't your singing voice horrible?"

"Yeah?" Dirk shrugs, like that doesn't matter. Like karaoke isn't a big deal. You should dump him right now.

"Okay, well I think I'm gunna go up alone so you don't drag me off key."

Dirk clicks his tongue. "Oh wow, fine, you're so great why don't you sing me a song. A beautiful romantic song, like Wind Beneath my Wings or some shit."

"No, that's mine and Dave's song. I sung it to him at his eighteenth and twenty first. It was beautiful, when you listen to the lyrics that song is so fucking back handed, all 'it must have been cold there in my shadow' and shit. It was hilarious."

"You're such a bitch."

"I know, right?" You chuckle to yourself. You are so funny. "Oh I have an idea!" You down the rest of your surprisingly potent pina colada, and totter over to the MC, and ask him if you can use the piano. He decries it as being "not really karaoke then," but says it's okay. Which is great. So you hop on stage, and remember that you're pretty drunk, but that's fine, because alcohol has never impaired your judgement of how awesome an idea it is to do karaoke before. 

You tap the mic at the piano, and are met with ear splitting feedback."Okay, um. First of all thank you for letting me use the piano, second of all. This one is going to my main man Bro. Who you may know as the puppet guy from Wednesdays." There is a murmur of recognition. "And I mean that he's my main man in a sexual way, so. Yeah."

With a dramatic slam of your hands upon the keys, you launch into a rip-roaring version of Great Balls of Fire, that leaves everyone stunned. So stunned that they forget to applaud once you're done. Except Dirk. Dirk applauds and whoots, and looks at the people around really aggressively, like he might punch them if they don't stop being so stunned by how beautiful your version of Great Balls of Fire was and start applauding.  
You bow and exit the stage with a weak smattering of applause.

Dirk tells you it was wonderful, and buys you more alcohol. A lot more alcohol.

Like.

Woah.

*

You wake up the next morning face down in an unfamiliar, but very cosy, bed. Your head is killing you. You are assaulted with echoes of someone completely murdering Great Balls of Fire.  
Memories cut in through the evening. You remember everything up to your first pina colada, and everything after that is kind of a blur.

Uh.

Oh wow you feel awful. You don't want to open your eyes or move at all. You'll work out where you are by retracing your steps.

Okay.

You went to the drag club. Some idiot did shitty karaoke. You drank more. You left the club. You... You definitely remember falling down. And Dirk carrying you.

Uh.

"Dirk," you try. It comes out as more of a gurgle.

"Remind me to never ever take you for cocktails again," he replies. God was his voice always so fucking _loud?_

Your mouth tastes gross. You have a vague memory of arriving back at a hotel room. In the fancy place! And throwing up. 

And trying to make out with Dirk. And him trying to make you shower?

"I made an ass of myself, didn't I?"

"You threw up on my shoes."

You groan, and bury your face in your pillow. You will never open your eyes again. If Dirk really loved you he would just let you die right now.


	22. Wrap up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A WRAP UP!! 
> 
> I didn't want to leave it unfinished, but I'm basically not finishing. So here's why and also what would have happened. I'm really sorry.
> 
> I had a wonderful time writing this, and thank you for reading! I'm sorry I couldn't finish it, and if any one is disappointed but I think it makes sense when I explain it and stuff.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, kudosed, bookmarked and commented!!

Okily dokily kids, I’m sorry if any one got all excited for a real update/ending but fact of the matter is, I’m not going to update this fic any more. It’s done, it’s finished, I’m finished, but I’ve decided to do this wrap up chapter explaining why, and what I would have done with the story instead of leaving everyone happening.

So you can skip the next few paragraphs till you see a big bold caps locks sentence if you only want to find out what was going to happen.

 

So I started writing this in January of 2012, when I was 17 and during the last year of my A-levels. I was going through some really nasty personal shit at the time and generally performing a lot shittier academically than I was supposed to. Because I chose to do fine art for my BA, I had to do a foundation year, which is like an extra qualification that allows you to access better institutions than you would have/gives you another shot if you didn’t get in any where you wanted to (which I didn’t, whoops) so all of my friends were getting offers and were all excited to go to university.

So yeah it was around January/February when I found out I was going to be stuck at home for another year when all my friends went off to have fun, that I needed to do all of this course work that I couldn’t concentrate on at all because I was basically really depressed due to ALL OF MY FRIENDS ARE GOING TO LEAVE ME HERE and OTHER HORRIBLE PERSONAL STUFF, and the fact I was performing a lot crappier than I was supposed to meant that a lot of stress and just general sadness, I WAS SAD, I THINK WE’RE GETTING THE IDEA THAT I WAS SAD, OKAY.

But yeah I started writing this with the intention of making it about 10-20k, baddabing jokes, badabboom porn done done done.

But then people started to really really like it? And It kind of blew up when I put it on Archive of our Own and it was just like

People praising me? I’m good at something? PEOPLE CARE? PEOPLE ARE GENUINELY INVESTED IN SOMETHING I’M PRODUCING? SPREADING JOY?? ACHEVING???

Just yeah, part of the reason I loved writing this so much was just how much people enjoyed it. Like I’ve never written something before that people just really seemed to love, and the fact that people would tell me this was their favourite ever fic, or that me updating made their day was just really, really important to me for the longest time.  
That and just this fic in general was just a wonderful place for me to escape to. Just like, at the time my own life was this super stressful place, and even after I finished school, it continued being a stressful place, because like I couldn’t find a job and all of my friends were leaving, and I had the prospect of this whole other year looming over me, where I might fuck up, and not get into a decent uni, and not make any friends and ugh!!

But when I was writing this, I didn’t have to think about any of that stuff? I could just like have fun, I could have fun making something people loved. If I was ever upset, or stressed, I could just sit there and come up with jokes, or scribble down some dialogue or just generally plan stuff to do with this fic in the future.  
Hohum then I started my foundation year, and even though the first half term was hellish, it was actually really fun? But the high demand of projects meant I was kind of creatively drained, and I was also starting to get KIND OF TIRED OF HOMESTUCK, which didn’t help.

So basically I got writers block, and I had loads of work to do, and I also actually made friends so I was busy too, and pssh yeah, by the time I actually got the itch to write back again (probably in like December,) it just felt like I was phoning this in.  
Like, man I wasn’t better? But this fic (and Homestuck in general, really) is going to forever be the thing that helped me through my last year of high school, and by late 2012/the start of this year

I was so fucking done with fucking high school, and I was done with being miserable, and I was done with being lonely and I was getting pretty done with Homestuck, and I guess I just kind of

Outgrew the need to write this fic?

Reading it back, it really is a shame I can’t see myself finishing it off, because like, hell it’s funny. It’s hella funny, and I think I grew a lot as a writer while I wrote it, but yeah I guess I’m just done with it.

And I’m really sorry I can’t finish it for you, but anything I did write now, would just be so awful and phoned in, and I just don’t want to ruin this by having a crappy ending when the equivalent of it feels so fun. Because I was having so much fun, and I stopped having fun and frick it’s free content what the hell else am I writing it for, at the end of the day.

So really I just want to thank everyone who supported this fic and who supported me, because I was having a really rough time and this was pretty much one of the only things I genuinely enjoyed doing for months. And I just feel like I’ve grown up so much since I started it. I actually started university today, and I got into one of the best art schools in the country, and moved to London, and I turned 19 and I’m actually pretty gosh diddly darn happy now, and I think I owe that partly to this fic and to all of you!! 

I just really want to thank anyone who commented or Kudossed or anything, because it was exactly the confidence boost and validation I really needed at that point in my life and yeah. For a while this was basically the most popular serialised fic in the fandom and I don’t think anyone will understand how much so many people enjoying my work meant to me at the time.

Oh and double thank you to everyone who bought my book off the back of this fic because yeah, wow, amazing.

We did it kids, we climned this whole mountain. 

I’m still writing! Just not for Homestuck. I’m doing some stuff for Attack on Titan, I started writing a visual novel and I’ve got another book in the works atm and a collection of short stories planned, so if you want to keep an eye on me, you can always follow me at bluethallium.tumblr.com!!

 

**SO OKAY, EXPLANATIONS HAVE BEEN HAD, HERE’S WHAT I WAS PLANNING**

 

So basically it was all gonna go down hill after that date chapter. John was going to be like, man fuck not having friends I’m sick of this shit, and was going to start hanging out more with Crystal and some of her friends again, basically Actual People His Own Age.

Which Bro was gunna HATE

And then, after she hangs on till like February, John was going to find out that the lady he was subbing for made a miracle recovery, but the miracle recovery meant that they didn’t need him in Texas any more. But Good News! The head mistress got John a great job at a new charter school!

Bad News: The School is in Harlem.

And he just isn’t sure what to tell Bro.

BUT HE DOESN’T HAVE TO BECAUSE BRO OVER HEARS HIM SKYPING WITH ROSE. 

OOPS.

THEY BREAK UP (I’m posting the break up convo to my tumblr – which is raw dialogue, but I figure a handful of people might be interested in how that’d play out http://bluethallium.tumblr.com/post/62739343611/in-the-wrap-up-chapter-i-say-i-have-bro-and-johns)

JOHN MOVES TO NEW YORK WITH ROSE.

JOHN GROWS A BEARD OF SORROW, AND GETS A SUMMER JOB AT SUBWAY. AND LIES ON THE COUCH FEELING SHITTY.

We were literally going to have about 2 chapters of John being some miserable, beardy woody Allen character, and generally stinking up Rose’s apartment with his melancholia. John was gunna cry and masturbate to bro's first porno at one point and rose catches him and we laugh through our tears

Also he tries to get a pity fuck from Rose at some point but he can’t do it because she reminds him too much of a Small Bro With Boobs and she can’t do it because he reminds her of a large Jade with a penis.

Plot twist Rose has been mooning over Jade for years (THEY WERE ACTUALLY GOING TO HAVE A SIDE FIC which would have come to about 20k?? I think, where Jade moves in with Rose in New York, and Rose kind of reflects on their relationship, so it would have been mostly flashbacks, to like, the one time they made out in spin the bottle and it meant SO MUCH to Rose but for Jade It Was Tuesday, and just Rose having the pouties before John basically spills the beans to Jade like OH MY GOD YOU’RE AN IDIOT JUST LOOK AT HER LOOK AT HOW SHE IS AROUND YOU CHRIST and Jade is like, um Oh uh IDK and then is like OH WHAT THE HELL ad then they fall in love, ANY WAY)

John just whines and cries his way from March through to July, and Rose is the voice of reason (and so is Dave shockingly) and the consensus everyone comes to is kind of like

Maybe your relationship went a little fast, maybe it was ill advised, but you are both clearly so fucking miserable without each other, isn’t it worth just making another go of it?

And John calls Bro a few times and panics and hangs up.

Then Mom goes into labour, so Rose and John fly to Washington and oh.

Dad wanted Bro to be at the birth because he’s the baby’s Godfather.

So Rose tactfully leaves them alone for a while in the hospital waiting room, and they’re just kind of like

Hey

Bro has also grown a beard of sorrow.

And they do the whole “Oh how have you been?”

“Fine”

“Yeah me too, I’ve been great,”

“Really?”

“NO. NO NOT REALLY IT WAS AWFUL. EVERYTHING IS AWFUL. I’M MISERABLE I’M SO FUCKING MISERABLE”

The baby is born! And it’s a healthy baby [HORNS BLARING AS A TRUCK PASSES BY] and they can’t come up with a name so they just keep calling it baby.

There was going to be another short side fic where the joke was that Dad and Mom, who’d never raised real babies before, only weird already like a year old Slimey Clone Babies, were going to be FUCKING AWFUL INCOMPETENT PARENTS, just like 10k of Dad and Mom sobbing and covered in milk and vomit like WHAT’S WRONG WITH IT IT KEEPS CRYING?/??? IT CANT TALK YET??? BABY NO.

And after baby drama, Rose tactfully goes to visit Mom and Dad in hospital so Bro and John can have the house to themselves to talk.

And John is like

Well so we’re both miserable and we want to get back together how deal with that

And Bro is just like WE SHOULD HAVE GIVEN THE LONG DISTANCE THING A SHOT I’M SORRY I’M AN IDIOT HOW ABOUT WE GIVE IT A FEW MONTHS I HAVE MONEY TO FLY OUT AND SEE YOU AND IF ITS GOOD THEN I’LL MOVE TO NEW YORK AND WE CAN GET MARRIED 

And John is like WOAH HOLD YOUR HORSES WITH THE MARRIAGE WOAH but yeah I think that sounds like a really great idea, let’s not be idiots again okey dokey

And yeah they acknowledge that they still have their problems and not everything is perfect, but life is better when they’re together. Bro will try and get out more and be less of an ass, John will try to be more considerate of Dirk’s feelings and won’t avoid talking, or bury his head in the sand or keep things any more.

Um yeah! So it all ends happily ever after. 

And I think Dirk would move up to New York, and John and Dirk would eventually get married after like 3 failed proposal attempts, and John would want kids and Bro would be like HAHA no.

And Rose would want kids but Jade would be like HAHA no.

And some how John and Rose would get their way and Rose and John would make 3 beautiful test tube babies over the course of about 3 years. It’ll be beautiful. 

And I figure Dave just kind of drifts on through life, and lives in Rose and Jade’s apartment and is a really successful artist. There he is. Uncle Dave. He’ll end up with someone as Needy as he is and all will be right with the world.

God bless us, everyone.


End file.
